


Only Violence

by psychotic_hamster



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Developing Relationship, Dystopia, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychotic_hamster/pseuds/psychotic_hamster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Wolverine accidentally brutally murders intruders in the X-mansion he decides the team is better off without him and leaves for good. Two years pass and mutants are persecuted more than ever. Kitty goes on the run and discovers Logan in London. The two form an uneasy partnership which develops into a much stronger bond as they start to realise just how much they mean to each other. All the while, they must find a way to survive in a world that would much rather see them dead. </p><p>Other X-Men characters will be included later on. Expect swearing, violence and moderate sexual scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins at the End

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is born from my recent obsession with X-Men/Wolverine. I've pretty much read/watched everything Wolverine has been in, and even re-watched X-Men Evolutions. It got me thinking how the Wolverine in that series was considerably less violent than in any of the comics (obviously because it was a cartoon for kids), but if he were to be considered the same character, then maybe there was a reason for the lack of stabby-stabby, kill-kill on his part. Maybe it was because he was trying to hold back so he could fit in with the team and not scar the poor little kiddies' minds with visions of blood and gore. This story deals with the concept that he's let his true nature slip, and lost his place in the X-Men.
> 
> Kitty's role was more or less filled on a whim, but I like the way her innocence sort of juxtaposes against Logan, yet at the same time, she's bold enough to challenge him and imperfect enough to become a bit more like him. As far as the romance goes, I intend for it to be entirely believable and as such it will be built slowly and may not be initially obvious. 
> 
> The characterisations in this story are based primarily on X-Men Evolutions, but there may be comic book influences, especially as the two year gap puts them a bit closer to the more mature characterisations found in the comics.

Pain seared through his veins, shot fiery embers from his joints and boiled like magma in his bones. All he could see were flashes of light and colour, but in between he could pick out the shapes of medical implements: a scalpel, a clamp, a needle. 

The needle. He could feel that metal spike stinging deep inside his flesh. There were millions of them, attacking his body from every angle and injecting him with their poison. He felt his mind twist and pull. Flashes of bright white light burned his eyes, the pain spreading deep into his skull. He writhed and attempted to cry out in pain, but no sound escaped his gaping mouth.

There were faces now, fuzzy and undetailed, but he could feel them leering at him. The flesh of their faces blurred into huge white grins. They were mocking him. And how could they not? He was entirely at their mercy, unable to lift a limb to defend himself.

He surged with anger. How could they do this to him? How could he _let_ them do this to him? He had to fight back. The torment had to end. 

So he pushed back hard, struggling against the red-hot pain. He fought with everything he could, even though it felt like he was moving through setting concrete. He reached out, desperate to disperse the malevolent apparitions. But all the wild striking of his arms could not make those horrible grins disappear.

One of them, he tried to rip apart. The body disappeared into smoke, but those white hard teeth remained to mock him. If he had a voice then it would have broken with a wild, ragged howl.

He struck at the grin, which had now started to laugh at him. He swiped at it, hit it, but nothing would stop that raucous noise. It filled his skull. With all the pressure he thought it might crack. The noise had to stop. He had to make it stop. He pounded at the disembodied teeth, but nothing he could do would break them.

The laughing got louder. His head started to feel dizzy. The tone was more hysterical, higher pitched, almost like screaming. He struck harder. This had to mean that he was winning. Just a little more and then-

“Logan!” a voice screamed.

He flinched at the use of his name. But no, he had to destroy them all first. They had to pay for what they did to him.

“Logan, please. That’s enough,” another voice burst through the deafening noise, almost squashing it completely.

The grin disappeared in a haze of red and through it he could just about see the glint of metal. He recoiled slightly. No more needles. No more instruments. He couldn’t take it.

But when he took his hand away, the metal came with him. Startled, he rotated his wrist. Claws. He had metal claws coming out of his knuckles and they were coated with blood.

Oh God.

It all came back to him. He remembered who he was, what was done to him and who he was supposed to be now. And this was all very wrong.

The haze cleared, and there was a body beneath him – although to call it that would have been charitable. In reality, it was a bloody mess; the chest mauled open and the face a mess of slash and stab wounds, barely recognizable as human.

The stench of blood filled his senses so strongly that he could barely smell anything else, but there was fear and a lot of familiar scents, along with a few that he’d never smelt before. The corpse below him, although it reeked of death, had an underlying foreign scent. So he hadn’t known its owner. Thank God.

With a slight sense of relief, Logan straightened up.

Then he felt his heart stop when he realized where he was. It was dark, but the foyer of the Xavier Institute was instantly recognizable. The only thing out of place was the fact that he was surrounded by black clothed bodies. All of them had been brutally murdered in one way or another, but they had a common trait: they all looked like they’d been torn apart by a savage beast.

His eyes dropped back down to the razor-sharp metal prongs protruding from his hands. They were definitely dripping with blood. Logan had no idea how or why, but it was very obvious that he’d killed them. And that was bad. Very bad, when he considered who lived in this building.

Still panting from the exertion he didn’t remember, he turned his gaze to see two of his colleagues, the Professor and Ororo, maintaining a safe distance from him. The shock on their faces pulled his stomach into knots.

Of course, the Professor had known exactly what kind of man Logan was when taking him on, but he’d hoped so dearly that the feral mutant would leave that kind of lifestyle behind when joining the team. He must be so disappointed. And Ororo; she’d known Logan was violent, but she’d probably never even suspected he could do something like this.

Then, of course, there were all the other scents in the room. He didn’t want to look, he really didn’t, but he could feel his head turning slowly against his will.

They appeared in the corner of his eye, huddled together in a fearful, quivering mass. The children. They’d seen him. They’d witnessed him ripping these people apart. Whether they were intruders, spies or attackers, it didn’t matter, because they’d watched as he’d murdered them.

He swallowed thickly. All his efforts, all his restraint had come to nothing. They knew what he was now. The scent of fear almost overwhelmed the horrid stench of blood. So much so, that Logan felt something crack inside him.

Overcome by the urge to escape, he sheathed his claws and stalked past the Professor and Ororo to climb the huge curving staircase, back to his room. He tried so hard not to hear the combined intake of breath from his audience, but his heightened senses wouldn’t allow it.

Once in his room, Logan slammed his hands down on the wooden dresser, feeling it splinter underneath his weight as he leant forward to glare into its shaking mirror.

Hateful eyes stared back at him, set in a grim, blood-splattered face. His black hair was stuck together in thick strands, no doubt soaked with the crimson liquid. It spread all down his shoulders and bare chest as well. He was covered in it. Of course it wasn’t the first time he’d taken a blood bath, but right now it was making him feel filthy.

Heaving himself off the dresser, he turned to look around his room. He needed a shower, he knew he did, but that urge to escape was screaming even louder. There was no time to wash off the blood. He had to get out. So he made do with picking up a white wife-beater from the bed and dragged it over his skin. By the time he was done, not an inch was left white. He let it linger in his grasp before letting it drop to the floor. His expression fell solemn and distant. If only he’d woken up sooner, if only he’d realized what he was doing.

No. It was over now. He couldn’t make excuses. There was nothing left for it, he had to leave.

Hastily, he turned back to the dresser. When he opened the drawers they threatened to fall out entirely and the dresser wobbled with the impact, but he hardly noticed. He quickly dressed and started flinging clothes into a leather duffel bag.

He became vaguely aware of a presence behind him, but chose to ignore it and started to throw some personal possessions into the bag. There weren’t many, mostly just a pack of cigars and the dog tags he’d taken off the day he set foot in this place. He was careful to avoid packing any mementos from the last few years. There was no point bringing up the memories he’d just ruined.

“Logan,” the Professor finally spoke softly. He didn’t respond, just zipped up the bag and threw it over his shoulder.

“Logan, you don’t have to leave,” the Professor continued.

“Yeah, I do,” Logan growled, turning to face him. Charles had positioned his wheelchair close to the exit without obstructing it. Smart man.

“You were just trying to protect the children, they will understand,” Xavier said, carefully weighting his words to make sure they sank in.

“No, they won’t,” Logan gave an exasperated sigh. Sometimes the Professor really was too optimistic. “They’ve seen what I am now, they know I’m a monster.”

He pushed his way past the old man, stepping into the light of the hallway.

“You are _not_ a monster, Logan,” the Professor said firmly.

The feral mutant stopped in his tracks and squeezed his eyes shut. His jaw clenched as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. He’d wanted so badly to believe that was true – it was part of the reason he took on the job of a teacher to begin with – but clearly there was evidence to suggest otherwise.

“I was stuck in one of my dreams, Chuck,” he said quietly, despite the fact that the telepath had probably already worked that one out. “It could have been anyone I tore to shreds. I wouldn’t have known and I wouldn’t have cared. Not ‘til it was too late.”

The Professor held his tongue, most likely because he knew he couldn’t make false promises about that not being true. Logan opened his eyes, the light of the hallway making him squint slightly.

In better circumstances, he’d have liked to thank Charles for everything he’d done for him and the trust he’d put in him. Only now the words would taste sour, so he kept his mouth shut and carried on walking.

 _You’ll always be welcome here, Logan,_ the Professor’s voice filled his head. It served as little comfort.

Logan grunted and turned the corner, only to come face to face with one of the quivering students from earlier. Kitty Pryde. She looked up at him with big wide eyes, like a deer in headlights. He caught a whiff of her terror and scowled. He couldn’t deal with it, not now. Barreling on, he carefully raised his gaze above her head. He expected her to move out of the way, she should have been scared enough to turn and run, so it was hardly worth looking at her as he walked past.

His eyes widened as a strange sensation overcame him. He almost immediately realized what it was. She’d phased through him. The use of her power left a chill down his spine and a cold empty feeling in his gut.

She’d phased through him, like he already wasn’t even there, like he’d never – No. He was reading into it too much. He had to get out.

He didn’t turn back and he didn’t see another soul as he went to collect his motorbike. When he cleared the manor gates, the building behind him seemed to press heavily on his back, almost as if it was pushing him away. He didn’t need the encouragement though. This time, when his motorbike kicked up dirt on the road behind him, it wouldn’t be going back the other way. 


	2. A Chance Meeting

Kitty Pryde did her best to look mature and confident as she approached the bar. She’d heard that teenagers had managed to buy alcohol based on that alone and she was desperately hoping it was going to work for her.

The bar didn’t seem that nice, a dark grimy wood that was half rotten. Most of the pumps were encrusted with white… something… around the bottom. But that was nothing compared to the grizzled old man that stood behind it. He looked like he’d been born with that scowl on his face, because he could hardly always be that grumpy.  Or could he?

Kitty didn’t know much about the British, aside from what she’d learnt in films and she’d been reliably informed that most of those were inaccurate representations. But she thought Britain was famous for its pubs, so why was this one such a dingy stinking hole?

Seriously, the stench was something from another world. It was like old smoke, body odour, feet and mould all rolled into one. And the worst part was, it was so dark in here that she couldn’t work out what the smell was coming from, so she had no hope of avoiding it.

Nonetheless, she was desperate for a drink and she was going to do everything she could to get one. So she leant casually against the bar, immediately gaining the surly barman’s attention.

“Can I help you?” He said gruffly, completely devoid of the Cockney accent Kitty had been half-expecting.

“Yes, good sir,” the teenage girl said with incredible false bravado, “Could I please have a pint of beer?”

The barman’s grumpy exterior barely changed, except for the slight rising of an eyebrow. “You got I.D.?” he asked.

Kitty’s resolve shattered almost immediately. She purposefully didn’t carry any form of identification around with her anymore. She never knew when she might bump into someone who knew who she was – or _what_ she was. Situations like that had never ended well, in her experience. So she did her best to stammer a response. “What? Erm – uh – but I’m clearly over eighteen. Why do you need I.D.?”

“Cuz you’re clearly not,” the barman replied flatly.

Kitty’s face flushed red. “I am too! This is harassment!” she cried indignantly.

“No,” the grizzly man replied slowly. “It’s the law.”

“Aww, go on, give the girl a drink,” a voice slurred from one of the dark corners of the room. Kitty spun around to find its owner.

There was a man walking towards the bar. He was as old as the barman, if not older and they were very similar in appearance, only his gut was considerably larger. Kitty did her best not to recoil as he came and rested against the beer-soaked wood next to her.

“It can be on me,” he leered at her and she caught a whiff of the incredible alcoholic stench on his breath. All of a sudden, Kitty’s urge to drink herself into oblivion faltered. But right now, it was too late.

Another man, much taller and broader and slightly younger than the other two, came to stand on her other side.

“Nah,” he drawled. “ _I’ll_ get it for her.”

 The look he then proceeded to give Kitty seemed to strip her naked and do very lewd things with her body. Her stomach flipped and a nagging voice in the back of her head was very insistent that she kicked him in the balls and ran away as fast as she could. For now, she decided to play it cool.

“I can buy my own drink fellas,” she did her best to smile, but it didn’t work very well. All she really did was look very nervous.

“I’m not sure if you can. Looks to me like you might need a bit of… patronage.” The taller man leant over her in what he clearly thought was a seductive manner. It came off as menacing rather than anything else.

Kitty took that as her cue to leave. “I’m alright thanks,” she squeaked and wormed her way out of the tight gap the two creeps had left her.

“Oh come on, I’m only offering you a good time,” the tall burly man drawled. His hand caught on her wrist and in her panicked attempt to get free, his grip only got tighter.

“Let me go!” Kitty cried and tugged so hard that the skin on her wrist began to burn with pain.

“Now why would I want to let go of a beauty like you?” He smirked, yanking on her arm so that she stumbled into him. Her face crushed against his stomach and it took every ounce of self-control not to just phase right through him.  She couldn’t use her powers, not here. It had taken her so long to get to London and she didn’t want to be found out so quickly.  This city was supposed to be her perfect hideout.

“Please,” she begged, trying to pull backwards again. The attempt afforded her a glimpse of the barman and her other suitor, they were entirely dispassionate to her struggle. In fact, their countenances could be better described as metaphorical vultures.

“Why so eager to leave? I thought you wanted a drink?” the tall burly man smirked.

“Yeah, well I like, changed my mind, so let me go!” Kitty snarled, trying to peel back his fingers with her other hand. All it did was make him grip tighter; until it felt like her bones were going to snap. She yelped in pain. That was it, she had to phase through, or at least kick him or something.

But a deep growling drawl from one of the other darkened corners halted her attempts at self-defense.

“Hey, bub, why don’t you just let her go?”

Kitty went rigid. She knew that voice; its tone was entirely unmistakable. But it couldn’t be him. Could it? 

A figure rose to its feet, blocking what little light had been coming through the tiny, filthy paned window there. It staggered a little as it proceeded towards them and Kitty felt a strange sensation curling in her gut.

A calloused hand stretched out to grasp the edge of a table in between them, as the owner hunched over it. Then he looked up and Kitty felt the air get knocked out of her lungs.

The dark hair was longer than she remembered and it was complimented by a pretty horrendous looking beard. His eyes that were normally so sharp had a glazed, unfocused look to them and there was a stupid cocky grin on his face she didn’t think she’d ever seen him wear before. And speaking of wearing; the grubby greys and browns of his outfit were nothing like the distinctive t-shirt, jeans and leather jacket look he used to have. He literally looked like a homeless person. Kitty couldn’t help but feel a stab of pity.

“Go back to your corner, pisshead!” Her captive scoffed, pulling her a bit closer for demonstrative purposes.

Logan smirked. “Why don’t you go the fuck the fuck off!” He slurred, swinging forward with a hurling fist. It would have been very effective if it hadn’t been about a foot away from the intended recipient. In the end, all it did was send him off-balance and crashing to the floor.

Kitty winced, half in embarrassment and half because that actually looked like it hurt. Her captor, on the other hand, seemed to think it was hilarious and burst out into raucous laughter.

Logan grunted and attempted to push himself up. The tall burly man caught on and warned him, “You’d better stay down, pisshead.”

The threat fell on deaf ears, however, and Logan managed to get to all fours before the tall burly man decided that was far enough. He threw Kitty against the bar, causing pain to explode in her left side. She had to grab the counter-top, just to keep from falling down. Her captor then raised his foot and brought it down with crushing strength on Logan’s back, who crumpled immediately.

“I _said_ – _stay – down,”_ the brute growled, punctuating each syllable with a kick in Logan’s side. The feral mutant let out a long groan but didn’t move. So much for Kitty having a chivalrous rescuer then.

“What was that?” the tall burly man leant over him mockingly. “Did that _hurt?”_ He kicked Logan’s side with all the force he could muster, eliciting something crossed between a growl and a grunt.  “Huh?” He was almost shouting now, as he hit the smaller man with kick after bone-crushing kick.

Finally able to find her voice, after having it knocked out of her in a number of ways, Kitty cried out. “Stop, please stop!”

The tall burly man chuckled darkly. He didn’t bother to look back at her, but his flurry of abuse halted for a moment.

“She wants me to stop,” he said sardonically, “Do you want me to stop? Does that _hurt_?”

Logan grunted, in what could have been either a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ tone, it was hard to tell. But he seemed to be able to roll over, just enough to look up at his attacker. The stupid grin was gone from his face and he had returned to the grim expression Kitty knew him for. But there was something else to it, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

He shifted and started to stand up, grumbling “Fuckin’ hangover,” as he did.

The tall burly man’s eyes widened and he attempted to floor Logan with a strike to the stomach before he could get up. Unfortunately for him, Logan grabbed his wrist and twisted it back on itself as he came to his full height. A cry burst forth from the lips that had so far spouted nothing but abuse.

Then Logan looked up at him, his face distorted with contempt and that was when Kitty worked out what had changed. His eyes weren’t glazed over any more; they were back to their sharp, usual selves. She couldn’t believe it, but it actually seemed like he’d gone from staggering drunk to stone cold sober in a matter of seconds.

He swung back with his spare arm and launched a fist right into the taller man’s face. Kitty couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction as she heard something crunch. Her former-captor slumped to the ground like a sack of meat, slowed only by the tight grip Logan still had on his wrist. Once he’d fallen into an awkward unconscious position, the feral mutant flexed his hand loose, letting the arm fall limply to the ground. Then he quickly checked his surroundings for further signs of hostility, snarling slightly, but stopped dead when he saw Kitty.

For a moment they both stared at each other, not quite sure what to make of their chance meeting. Kitty couldn’t quite meet his eyes and settled for somewhere around his chin. Well, at least that was where she thought his chin was; it was hard to tell under all the dark coarse hair that was apparently meant to be a beard.

She didn’t have long to muse on it, however, because he reached out and grabbed her arm roughly.

“Don’t worry,” he said gruffly, side-stepping the unconscious lecher. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

And with that, he gave her a sharp tug and dragged her out the door.

“Hey!” She complained the minute they were out into the cold and attempted to tug her arm back. It wasn’t going to work any better with Logan than it did with the other man. If anything, his grip was tighter. At least she could be thankful that he wasn’t applying pressure on her already bruising wrist. But when he jerked her quickly into a nearby alleyway, she wasn’t so sure that she was happy to be saved.

Logan stalked down the narrow space, dragging her behind him with such speed that she had to shuffle her feet into a half-run to keep balance.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

Back at the Institute, Logan had always been scary, but he’d never actually hurt anyone outside of training sessions. In fact, Kitty was pretty sure he hadn’t even made bodily contact with anyone outside of training sessions. Meaning there was absolutely no precedent for this situation. It made her chest flutter nervously.

When they were about halfway down, he flung her around and pushed her into the wall with considerable force, enough to make everything go black for a moment.

“Oww, that hurt,” she moaned, her tone laced with accusation. But she immediately regretted doing so afterwards. When she looked back at his face her breath caught in her throat.

He was livid. Actually livid. Kitty was pretty sure if she tried to escape he would gut her.

“Why are you here?” he snarled, leaning in close enough for Kitty to be confronted with the very abominable smell she thought she’d just escaped.

Her chest tightened at the rage that had already turned the feral mutant’s face red. There was no way that she could reply even if she wanted to. Back at the Institute, Logan used to have rages like this, but people very rarely saw them because they were all very careful to make themselves scarce. Kitty didn’t think anyone had ever been on the receiving end of Logan’s wrath. Not really. Not like this.

“I – I –” she stuttered, shrinking back against the wall.

“How did you find me?” Logan growled, apparently oblivious to the fact his last question went unanswered. This one, however, sparked something unexpected in Kitty. She felt a surge in indignation.

“I wasn’t even looking for you,” she spat. “I only came to this place because I wanted to get drunk.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits, as if he could hardly get over the notion that sweet little Kitty Pryde wanted to get drunk.

“And why would you want to do that?” he said bitterly.

“Because – “ Kitty faltered. “Because of –“ She couldn’t finish her sentence, because of the uncomfortable feelings that were suddenly worming their way up inside her. She suddenly felt very hot, despite the fact it was close to freezing out here.

“You’re underage,” Logan admonished.

“Not here, I’m not! I’m eighteen!” Kitty protested. Her eyes were beginning to sting and her vision was starting to get blurry.

“You’re –“ Logan stopped short. “You’re eighteen?” he exclaimed in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Kitty replied, fighting hard to keep the wobble from her voice and the tears from falling down her face. “You’ve been gone two years.”

The colour drained from Logan’s face and his brow knit together in confusion. Kitty was pretty sure she could see him mouth the word ‘two’ in disbelief. Then he looked at her again and this time there was no rage, only a lot of discomfort and maybe just a bit of guilt.

“I thought you looked taller,” he said uncomfortably and turned to pace in small circles.

Kitty frowned. Now that he mentioned it, she realised with astonishment that the man she’d always looked up to, both feared and respected, was actually a couple of inches shorter than her.

Somehow it didn’t seem right, to think that such an imposing character could actually be so small. But then she supposed it made sense; Scott had always stood a head taller than Logan. He just hadn’t… filled the space in the same way.

She choked back a sob. Now wasn’t the time for thoughts like that. Even if Logan could deck a six-foot brute in one hit, the streets weren’t really a safe place anymore. Not for a mutant and definitely not for an X-man.

“You got some place we can go?” she said quietly.

Logan stopped pacing and looked sharply back at her. The mistrust in his eyes caused her to finally lose control of those tears she’d been working so hard to hold back. He watched with utter captivation as they tumbled down her cheeks, before quickly turning away.

“Sure,” he said quietly and started down the alleyway.

Hastily rubbing away the salty tracks on her face, Kitty wondered whether it was such a good idea to follow this man, considering the way in which he’d left the X-Men. But then she thought he was definitely better company than most and right now, she could probably do with a bit of familiarity. And if she was really lucky, she could get him to shave off that hideous beard. 


	3. The Good Die Young

At the end of the alleyway, Logan broke out into a half run. Night was starting to fall and that was unfortunately when all the main streets started to light up, making it about as dark and shady as the summer equinox. It also happened to be a time when there was virtually no one on the street, so if someone happened to be looking for short hairy man and a teenage girl, they’d be able to do it with incredible ease. 

He dove into the next available back street, but didn’t drop his pace. Kitty was an X-Man and he had no doubt she’d be able to keep up. In fact, she’d definitely be able to go faster, but the queasy, head-pounding hangover had yet to lift and Logan didn’t feel up for much more exertion.

The familiar journey back from the pub had been etched into his brain, so he thankfully didn’t have to task himself with planning the route. Although he had seven different ways of moving in between the two destinations, all of them taking no longer than two minutes at a sprint and all of them committed to memory, Logan didn’t feel like taking one of the harder ones. He had far too much on his mind, he didn’t even know where to begin. 

A few minutes of darting in and out of alleys and back streets brought them to a wire fence where the bottom corner had been peeled back. Logan quickly ducked underneath it. 

On the other side was a seven-storey apartment block that had fallen into disrepair. The windows on the bottom floor had been covered up with metal sheets and even in the fading light it was quite easy to make out the broken glass of windows on higher levels. The most important of which was easily the one on the second floor, tucked neatly into a corner, directly above a plastic dumpster.

Not bothering to check whether the young X-Man was still with him, Logan broke into a sprint and vaulted onto the bin lid, only to immediately spring up and grab the window ledge above. With a grunt, he heaved himself up and through the gaping hole to stand on the other side.

When he heard no obvious sounds that he was being followed, he turned to rest on the window ledge and look down onto the asphalt below. 

Kitty was looking up at him with an incomprehensible expression. “Great,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “And how am I supposed to be able to do that?” 

Logan quirked up an eyebrow. “I trained you, didn’t I?” he grunted. 

“Yeah,” Kitty replied slowly. “But you’d need super-human strength to make a jump like that. Isn’t there like, a door somewhere?” 

Logan scoffed. “Of course not, everything’s boarded off. That’s _kind of_ what makes this a safe place to live.” 

Kitty gave him a perplexed look that said she was hardly ready to believe that anything about this dilapidated building was safe. However, if she’d learnt to survive and live rough like Logan had, she’d know this was actually a pretty perfect location. He heaved a sigh and struggled against muttering something under his breath about kids not understanding the basics of life, before leaning as far as he could out of the window. 

“Jump up and I’ll catch you then,” he called impatiently, lowering his arm to dangle several metres from the dumpster. 

The teenage girl looked at the resulting distance and gulped. However, in true X-Man style she quickly abandoned her doubts. She squared up and broke into a run. She leapt up onto the dumpster with no problem, curling down into a squat before leaping up again. The jump lacked the power that Logan’s had, but her outstretched arm flew close to his elbow. He grabbed her arm with little effort and pushed up against the ledge. As he reached his full height, Kitty’s other hand swung up and grappled at the crumbling concrete. 

Once certain she’d got a good hold of the ledge, Logan stepped back, allowing her to pull herself through. She then proceeded to look up and down the hallway they were standing in with critical curiosity. The walls, which had once been white, were covered with a vast number of stains, everything from water damage to smoke marks. The flooring had come up in parts and the casings on the ceiling were empty of light bulbs, meaning it was really quite dark and if it weren’t for the streetlamps outside, it would probably be pitch black in a couple of hours. 

Logan had never had high expectations about his living conditions, so anything that had a roof was good enough. For some reason though, he felt a slight jab of irritation when he saw Kitty looking around like she was wondering when it was going to fall down. Why he should even care what someone else thought about the way he lived was beyond him. The very thought of it was starting to make him feel very uncomfortable, so he quickly turned around and started walking in the direction of his apartment. 

“This way,” he grunted, to make sure the girl would actually follow him.  

He heard her feet scuffle behind him to catch up. 

“So, does like, anyone else live here?” she asked, being careful to keep her tone flat and neutral. Logan could still sense the hint of disgust in her voice, but forced himself not to care. He couldn’t have another angry outburst like earlier; it probably wouldn’t go down well.

“No,” he replied. His blunt response didn’t merit further discussion, so they climbed the four flights of stairs up to his apartment in silence. 

The front door had obviously been kicked down when Logan first found the place. What with it not technically being a legal residence any longer; it wasn’t like he was going to get a key. That meant that the green painted wood looked very battered, with splintering around the hinges. It dragged on the ground with a sweeping noise when he pushed it. 

The room inside was just about still visible in the quickly closing darkness – although, of course for Logan, whose eyesight rivaled that of the sharpest predator, every shady corner looked as clear as ever – it wasn’t the largest of rooms, probably no more than three metres squared, but it served its purpose. 

Pressed to the far side was a single grey mattress with a few blankets lazily strewn across it. The floor was littered with empty bottles and takeaway boxes, and pushed into the far corner was a pile of clothes that definitely hadn’t seen a washing machine in a long time. There was a sort of stench in the air that suggested the place was well lived in, and a lingering mouldy smell that attested to the age of the building. 

On the wall opposite the front door was a single window that allowed streetlight to pour into the room, making an orange rectangular shape on the floor. It was one of the few windows left in the building that still had the glass intact, and even though there was no heating in the place, the transparent barrier helped to keep the harsh cold winds out. 

The wall to the right had two doors on it, one led to the kitchen, which due to the building having no electricity or gas, was virtually useless and the other led to the bathroom, which due to the building having no water, was definitely useless. 

After Kitty had cleared the doorway to Logan’s more than humble abode, he turned back to shut the door behind her. He stood there for a few moments, staring intently at the grain of the wood. 

All of this time away from the X-men he’d managed to convince himself he no longer cared about their trials and tribulations, or at least that he no longer deserved to know. But now Kitty was here, all the questions he’d thought about (mostly in the small hours of the morning when he was trying to sleep) were teaming with each other to reach the surface. He had to remind himself that her appearance had changed nothing and that it was far more important that he found out why she was here in the first place. So he gathered himself together and turned to face her. 

She was stood in the middle of the room, looking quite small and nervous, despite the fact he’d clearly noted from earlier that she was in fact taller than him. (He tried not to let that get to him; after all, about the only people who weren’t taller than him were children or midgets. But it was very hard to ignore because it meant he might have to start considering Kitty Pryde as something more than a child.) She was dressed in a long beige overcoat tied at her waist, with a soft pink scarf around her neck to shield herself from the cold. Just beneath the coat Logan could see jeans splattered with mud and very practical, very well worn trainers. Kitty’s long brown hair was pulled back into the high ponytail she always used to wear, but some strands had come loose and were held together with grease. Her skin was pasty and set with dark rings around the eyes. All these tiny details came together to suggest one thing; that Kitty had been traveling for a long time by foot and it hadn’t been an easy journey. 

His curiosity piqued, Logan asked, “So, do you wanna tell me why you’re here?” 

Kitty shrugged nervously. “Pretty much the same as you, really. I needed somewhere to hide out –” 

“And to get drunk…” Logan added flatly. He hadn’t exactly forgotten her throwaway comment from earlier and didn’t think he would any time soon. It had left him baffled and feeling very oddly protective.

Kitty responded like most teenagers when confronted with accusation. She scowled and retorted, “Well things haven’t exactly been easy since you left you know,” her face flushed red. She knew she’d been caught, but like hell would she go down without a fight. “There were a few missions we could have really used your help…” she said, but her biting tone failed towards the end when she realised she’d accidentally stumbled into an awkward topic. 

Logan’s jaw clenched as he struggled very hard not to respond to her last statement. It wasn’t like he didn’t regret every day what he’d done that night at the Institute, but he didn’t want to have to explain to an ignorant teenage girl the depths of why it had happened. So he quickly redirected the conversation and prompted her, “Why London?” 

Kitty looked just a little bit relieved to avoid what could have been an infinitely more awkward conversation, before realising she had to take part in one that was nearly as bad. Her gaze dropped to the ground as she said quietly, “America isn’t exactly safe any more. I don’t know any other languages so England seemed the best bet.” 

Logan frowned. He may have spent the last two years doing very little other than downing his sorrows, but he hadn’t been so out of the loop that he didn’t know what was going on in the world. Kitty was right. America had become ground zero for mutant persecution and while other countries were starting to follow suit, it was still much safer for a mutant to hide out on a faraway continent. 

“What happened to everyone else?” he asked croakily. It was the question he didn’t really want to ask because he wasn’t sure what the answer would make him do, but he couldn’t help it, he had to know. 

“Well, ever since the government decided we had to register our mutant powers the mansion hasn’t been such a safe place. A lot of us ended up going home, but then there came the sentinels,” Kitty hesitated and Logan noticed a very real fear behind her eyes. A funny sensation began to twist and coil in his gut. He tried hard not to growl at the mention of those twisted machines and instead turned his attention to floor, where he was very sure he’d left half a bottle of whisky somewhere. 

“It was all over the news and I freaked,” Kitty continued, her tone only carefully betraying a hint of horror. “Kids getting ripped out of their homes at night – I couldn’t put my mum and dad through that, so I ran. I haven’t made contact since I left, so I don’t know where anyone else is – except what I’ve heard in the news.” She swallowed hard, her gaze still tethered to the ground. Logan could see her glassy eyes threatening to spill more tears and the uncomfortable sensation in his gut grew more insistent. 

Doing his best to ignore it, the feral mutant focused on the facts. The X-Men could be in real trouble, but there was no way of knowing whether they actually wanted his help or not. And he’d been so sure Kitty’s appearance had meant the rest of the team wasn’t far behind. 

“So they really didn’t send you?” he checked. 

Kitty looked up at him. She had somehow managed to abate the flood of emotion and compose herself once more. Logan could tell she was searching his expression for something. He remained very still and put on his best poker face. If Kitty had found what she was looking for it didn’t show. She cleared her throat and said, “No.” 

Neither of them moved for a moment, still locked in each other’s stare. Logan’s poker face cracked a little as the confusing mix of emotions toiled beneath the surface. He’d been telling himself for so long that he didn’t belong with the X-Men.  A killer couldn’t be a part of a team dedicated to peace and goodwill. So then why had a part of him hoped that Kitty had turned up to offer him redemption?  How could he still be so very foolish? 

He dropped his gaze and quickly sought out that bottle of whisky. He finally identified it in the sea of similar empty bottles and crossed past Kitty to pick it up. Rattling off the lid, he quickly took a swig of the bronze liquid and felt that usual bitter satisfaction as it burned the back of his throat and settled warmly in his belly. Along with it came the reiterated realisation that he wouldn’t have wanted to go back anyway. It changed the way people looked at you, when they knew you were a killer, and he hated it when people looked at him like that.  

“…Good,” he mumbled, pretty sure that Kitty had been waiting for a response of some kind.  If nothing else, he could at least express his desire to be left alone. 

Kitty hesitated, before turning around. 

“Logan, the night you left… Why did you go?” she asked him cautiously. 

The feral mutant’s shoulders hunched in apprehension. Perhaps it had been too optimistic of him to hope this rock would remain unturned.

“I had to,” he grunted, keeping his back turned. He used the opportunity to take another massive swig of whisky, kicking rubbish out of his way as he paced over to the window. He stared out of it, doing everything to avoid the younger mutant’s gaze and the looming conversation. Below the streets were empty, with very few parked cars. The entire neighbourhood was derelict and lifeless.

“But we found out those men were from some anti-mutant group. If you hadn’t stopped them they would have taken us away to some facility. The Professor told us about your dreams and that you didn’t really mean to kill them. But he said you wouldn’t reply when he tried to contact you,” Kitty persevered. 

Logan’s only response was to swallow more whisky. 

“We needed you,” Kitty’s voice wobbled. 

Logan scowled. “No one needs a killer around to make them feel uncomfortable.”

“Well I bet they wouldn’t have minded when – when –” Kitty failed to finish her sentence again. 

Curiosity bested the feral mutant and he found himself turning to face her. He rested against the windowsill, causing the old wood to creak under his weight. Tears were brimming in Kitty’s eyes and Logan regretted his new position. Her show of emotions were really beginning to grate on his nerves. 

“When what?” he snapped. 

“When Scott –” Kitty’s voice broke, but the pause gave her a moment to read the oblivious expression on Logan’s face. “You really don’t know? It – it was on the news,” the first in a long assault of tears trickled down her face. Logan tensed at the sight of them. He, like most men, hated it when girls cried. 

“What was?” he asked her edgily.

She bit back a sob and replied, “Scott – Scott Summers – he’s… he’s dead.” 


	4. Small Comforts

 

Logan’s grip around the whisky bottle grew limp and it fell to the floor with a dull _thunk_. The contents began to glug over the threadbare carpet, but if he’d noticed he didn’t seem to care. He just stared straight ahead with a blank expression on his face. 

Kitty couldn’t help but see her own reflection in his response. She’d seen the video footage on the news whilst in a café in central London this morning. The coffee she’d bought was stone cold by the time she came around. 

The gravity of the situation didn’t sink in until the afternoon. That was when she decided alcohol would help her to forget.

She could still remember the news helicopter’s view of Scott’s dead and mangled body; it was like it had been burnt into her brain. The smoke and the devastation left behind by the sentinels somehow became the X-men’s fault when the reporter described the scene. According to the news, Scott’s death had been a great success. They’d talked about him like he was a terrorist.  

Her legs shook. If she didn’t sit down soon they would probably give way instead. Turning around slowly, she made her way to the mattress and plonked herself down. Some springs squeaked in protest. 

Feeling totally numb to her surroundings, Kitty hugged her knees and just sat there. 

“How?” Logan said hoarsely, finally breaking the silence. 

Kitty looked up, causing a teardrop to fall off her chin. Perplexed, she raised a hand to her cheek and found it to be soaking wet. She hadn’t even been aware she was crying. 

“Sentinel raid,” she said croakily. “I think they were trying to save some other mutants.” 

Logan fell silent, but the sound of rustling fabric drew her attention just in time to watch him slide down the wall and sit on the floor. His hand drifted, seemingly unconsciously, to the whisky bottle, which had now ceased to pour its contents on the floor. As he brought it up to his mouth, Kitty could see in the orange lamplight that there was miraculously still some liquour left. It sloshed back and forth as he brought it back down to rest in between his knees. Kitty felt a pang of longing, as if one taste of that liquid would banish all the bad memories away, but she couldn’t even vocalise her desire to satisfy it. 

In that moment she might have suspected Logan was psychic if she didn’t know better, because he rolled the bottle gently across the floor to bump against her foot. She attempted to make eye contact with him to communicate her gratitude, but he was far too busy looking at the ground, as if suspecting that it might fall out from under him. Accepting defeat, Kitty picked up the bottle and without even pausing to inspect it, tipped it back into her throat. It was far stronger than anything she’d ever drank before and she coughed and spluttered so much that it made her throat feel raw. 

The next attempt was much more successful. This time all she felt was the warmth inside her and a funny dizzy sensation that went straight to her head. After a couple more swigs she lifted up the bottle to see that less than a quarter was left. She would have happily nursed the entire thing, but she felt very conscious that it wasn’t really hers to have, so she decided to roll it back to its owner. He happily received it, but a few minutes later the bottle tapped politely at her foot again. She picked it up to see that yet a little more had gone and had she not felt so weary of emotion she would have turned to her ex-mentor and given him a weak smile. 

She had no idea how long they passed the time like that, rolling the bottle back and forth between them, but it seemed to empty all too soon. The alcohol had done nothing to make her forget the images still flickering in the back of her head. All it had achieved was to drag her down into a deep depression.

Night had well and truly fallen by the time she heard Logan shift from his position. 

“Looks like you’d better stay the night,” he said gruffly. There was very clearly some reluctance in his tone but it hardly registered with Kitty. She was far too dejected to care whether her presence was causing bother for the man. As far as she was concerned, she could be outside in a downpour and she wouldn’t have budged. Her motivation for self-preservation had died the minute she’d let Scott’s death get to her. 

After all, if there was one person on the X-Team that seemed equipped to take on the sentinels it was Scott. Not only was he one of the most powerful mutants Kitty had ever known, he also had a good mind for tactics. He was a born team leader and if the sentinels could take someone like him down, what hope was there for a girl that could at best defend herself? 

Logan moved to squat down in front of her, but she didn’t flinch from her withdrawn position. She was pretty sure he was trying to look her in the eyes, but her down turned face didn’t afford him the privilege. Part of her wanted to respond, but the very thought of movement seemed almost too much to handle. Perhaps the alcohol had taken more affect than she’d realised.

Receiving no signals, Logan decided to soldier on. His fingers started to busy themselves with her shoelaces as he said, “You can have the mattress. It’s not much more comfortable than the floor, but it’s definitely warmer.” 

Kitty felt like replying. She thought she should probably thank him, or at least tell him that he could have just pulled her trainers off, but her face felt numb and working out how to move it was proving difficult. 

Slipping off her trainers, Logan then shifted to Kitty’s side. He pushed his hands in between the crook of her folded up legs and under her arm, then lifted her effortlessly, turning forty-five degrees before lowering her back down. The motion was as gentle as she could imagine a gruff, hardened man like Logan to be capable of. Something about it seemed ever so comforting. 

As he slowly lowered her back down onto the mattress, she felt a wave of dizziness and suddenly felt very thankful for the way the springs caved in to nest around her. Logan was right about it not being very comfortable; there were some stubborn springs that gave her the feeling of lying in cold lumpy custard. There was also an odd smell, which the best words she could think of to describe it as were ‘wet dog’. But just the act of lying down encouraged her eyes to droop. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a decent night’s sleep and the exhaustion had finally taken its toll. The second her eyes closed, consciousness slipped away and she fell into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

It was still dark when she woke covered in sweat. The evil images that had caused her eyes to shoot open were quickly melting away, as her surroundings came into focus. The feelings they’d stirred in her, however, did not leave so quickly. Her heart was pounding and her breath deep and ragged, like she’d held it for a long time.

At first she didn’t remember where she was. A part of her was wondering where all the sentinels and the fires had gone. Anxiously, she sat up. The dream had been so real; it was difficult not to believe that the bloody battle was still going on somewhere – that her friends were still out there dying. Only she wasn’t with them. 

That thought prompted her to work out exactly where she was and she gave the room a cautionary sweep. The sight of empty bottles was a quick reminder. Nestled among them was a body lying flat on its back, looking quite motionless. It was Logan. Kitty’s heart rate doubled, but when she saw his chest rise and fall she breathed a sigh of relief. It was very good to know that the Logan of real life was faring much better than the one in her nightmare. 

It was strange, before today, Logan probably wouldn’t have even popped up in her idle thoughts. Now she was having nightmares about him being blown to bits by sentinels along with the rest of the X-Men. 

The unfortunate truth was that ever since the night he left, everyone had thought of Logan differently. Mostly people were scared of what he was capable of. For nearly everyone involved it had been the first time they’d seen someone die. The memories of Logan ripping those men apart still sent shivers down Kitty’s spine. She hadn’t seen anything as gruesome since. 

But as time went on people started to wish he were around. They didn’t really mean to say it at first; the words just kind of slipped out, normally when they were in a perilous life or death situation. They’d take it back almost immediately if they could. However, when the government changed its stance, when the sentinels came out in force, they used to say it a lot more. 

Then Scott had flipped. He’d pointed out that if Logan were really part of the X-Men then he would have returned long before the situation got so bad. The Professor had tried to contact him enough times after all. Logan had selfishly abandoned them and Scott had said it was about time that everyone forgot about him. So they stopped saying they wished that Wolverine were there to have their backs. For all intensive purposes he no longer existed and he almost never had. 

Kitty was ready to believe that until today. After all, the staggering drunk who had rescued her from the pervert in the pub was not Wolverine. Nor was the man that had pushed her up against the wall and snarled at her. But the one who had dropped his bottle of whisky when he found out a former team member was dead, that man may have been the Wolverine of the X-Men. 

Realising that she’d been staring at the man on the cold hard floor for a bit too long, Kitty quickly averted her gaze. It was a bit of a stupid thing to do, considering that he was fast asleep, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if Logan could sense when he was being watched, even while sleeping. 

Instead she focused on the mattress around her. There was a sea of blankets around her lap that she didn’t remember being covered with. Perhaps they were doing their job a little too well, or perhaps Kitty’s nightmare had left her more than covered in sweat, but she suddenly realised she was swelteringly hot. 

Unwrapping the pink scarf from around her neck with distinct fervour, Kitty was relieved to feel the cool air kissing her newly exposed skin. She dropped the felty material next to the mattress, and then proceeded to unwrap her trench coat. It was considerably harder to remove and involved some rather unattractive shuffling around as she attempted to lift it away from beneath her. At one point she completely froze because a strange grunting noise from Logan’s part of the room led her to believe she’d woken him up. When he snorted a little more she figured he was probably just making noises in his sleep. 

She then dumped the coat next to the mattress, folding it over a little in an attempt to neaten it. Not that she really should have bothered. Apparently chucking everything haphazardly around the room was Logan’s style. Neat didn’t really belong here. 

Kitty made a mental note to help sort out the mess tomorrow, along with getting Logan to shave off his hideous beard. And if she could get him to take a shower, well that would just be a bonus. 

Finally feeling cooler with her top half dressed only in a thin v-neck jumper, with a white strappy top underneath, Kitty settled back down. 

She faced the dark ceiling, finding herself unable to close her eyes. After all the distractions of getting more comfortable, there was nothing left to do but think about the reason she was awake in the first place. Somehow, she knew, like people always do, that the minute she closed her eyes the images that had shocked her into waking would assault her once more. 

With a restless, albeit disturbed sigh, she turned onto her side to stare out across the room. Her eyes fell on Logan, still lying flat on his back. The position definitely didn’t look comfortable, especially on a carpet that had been worn thin at almost every point. He hadn’t even taken a blanket or tried to make a pillow out of spare clothes. Didn’t he even care? 

Regardless of whether he did or not, Kitty felt a stab of guilt. She had literally invited herself into his home, taken his alcohol and stolen his bed without even saying thank you. Although in her defense she had actually tried; the whisky just hadn’t let her. She resolved to make a very big thing about it in the morning. She’d thank him until it just became plain embarrassing. 

“Hey, you ever gonna stop staring at me, kid?” Logan grumbled, causing her to start.  

Kitty’s mouth moved noiselessly in shock. How could he know? His eyes were still closed! 

“You… You’re awake?” she exclaimed when she finally found her voice. She really hoped that the older mutant wasn’t talking in his sleep; that would just be too creepy. 

“An elephant spotting a mouse could have been more subtle than you taking off that coat,” Logan scowled. 

Well, that was very good evidence to suggest that she’d woken him up. Kitty felt a hot flush spread across her cheeks. “Um… sorry?” she volunteered in a tiny voice. 

“S’fine. But I can’t get back to sleep with you staring at me like that,” Logan grunted. Kitty stared at him blankly; he still hadn’t opened his eyes. 

“Um, how can you even tell that I’m – um – I mean, I’m not staring at you!” Kitty stuttered awkwardly. 

“I _can_ look out of the corner of my eye, you know,” Logan said flatly and the eye nearest her opened a crack, allowing him to stare back as a point of demonstration. 

“I wasn’t _staring_. You just happened to be in the direction I was looking,” Kitty defended herself with as much indignation as she could muster. In all honesty, it probably wasn’t enough to make her argument convincing. 

“Just stop it,” Logan ordered. 

Perhaps the forcibly gathered amount of annoyance at the older mutant’s accusation had got to her, but Kitty felt overwhelmed with the urge to retaliate. Even though a nagging voice at the back of her head told her it wasn’t such a good idea. 

“What, you want me to stop lying on my side? Lie on my back like you? That doesn’t exactly look comfortable,” she retorted. 

“Beats standing,” Logan replied briskly. 

It was hardly an effective argument. Who exactly went to sleep standing up? Kitty decided it was pointless quarrelling any further. 

“Whatever,” she huffed and turned noisily to face the wall. 

As the silence went on and Kitty’s stubborn indignation began to falter, it quickly became apparent that she was still unwilling to close her eyes. Every time she thought about going back to sleep her stomach turned. She didn’t want to see any more of her teammates die. It was bad enough just knowing that Scott was gone. She didn’t need her mind to conjure up graphic conclusions for everyone else. 

Pulling up the blankets around her shoulders, Kitty bundled some of them together in front of her and hugged them tight. It wasn’t quite the amount of comfort that she needed, but it helped.

In an attempt to ignore the frightful images teaming behind her eyelids, Kitty opened her ears to the surroundings. There was the sound of her breathing, quiet and measured, the distant noise of a car speeding down an empty street, and somewhere far away, someone was shouting. Closer to home, there was some ominous creaking from one of the floors above and Logan’s breathing, which was distinctly louder and deeper than her own. 

The sound was broken by a grunt and a shuffling noise as Logan attempted to get more comfortable. Kitty suspected that her comment about lying on his back had probably struck a chord, because after a brief pause she heard more scuffling and creaking from the floorboards. 

It reminded her of how guilty she felt about taking over his apartment and led her to quite selflessly say, “Would you like your bed back?” 

She knew that taking her turn to lie on the floor would probably result in a lot of cramped, sore muscles in the morning, but there didn’t seem to be much of a point in keeping the mattress if she wasn’t even going to sleep on it. 

There was a slight pause before Logan replied. “Don’t be stupid, I said you could have it.” 

Kitty hesitated, she didn’t really feel like explaining that the reason she was offering it to him was because she couldn’t get back to sleep after a bad dream. It sounded so childish. Besides, she was doing her best to forget about the horrifying images and mentioning them out loud felt like a step back. 

“Well, I don’t mind sharing,” she replied slowly. Perhaps she could convince him to take the bed back without having to bring up why. 

Logan didn’t say anything in return. At first Kitty was puzzled by his silence, but then she realised what she’d just said. _Sharing._ Sharing as in using the bed at the same time. She gulped. That was _definitely not_ what she’d meant. 

However, her clamour to correct herself was quickly cut off by a terse growl. 

“I’m fine,” Logan said. 

Oh no, Kitty cringed; this was definitely not the outcome she wanted. 

“I mean, if you like, want it to yourself…” she garbled in a pathetic attempt to save the situation. 

“I’m fine,” Logan repeated, a bit more forcefully. 

“Well, the offer still stands,” she finished lamely. 

So much for subtly avoiding sleep. 

Maybe if she just lay there for long enough the sun would rise and she could distract herself with other things. She wondered what the time was and how long she’d have to wait. Judging by how light it was she guessed it was about three in the morning. 

That meant lying there with nothing to think about except nightmares for at least a couple of hours. She supposed she could kiss her sanity goodbye, then. 

“Bad dreams?” Logan interrupted her depressive thoughts. 

It took her quite a while for his words to register. When they sunk in she turned sharply. 

“What? No – wait – how did you guess?” she frowned. 

Logan shrugged. “I’m practically the expert on them, remember?” 

“Oh, right.” Kitty sank to the mattress and stared at the ceiling. She supposed that was true. After all, there couldn’t be many other people who had such bad dreams that it made them kill people in their sleep. 

“Wanna talk?” Logan asked. 

She had to give him credit; he’d at least tried to make it sound like he wanted to listen. Still, it was pretty obvious that he was forcing himself. Kitty doubted that he really wanted to add to the arsenal of bad dreams he already suffered from.  Besides, she was determined not to give a voice to her nightmare, so she replied with a resolute “No.” 

For a petrifying moment she thought her ex-teacher might force her to open up – that he’d say something about it being better to get things off her chest. Then she remembered who she was talking to. 

“Ok,” Logan replied simply. Kitty breathed a sigh of relief.

She heard him shift his position. The noise was followed by footsteps. Nervously, she held her breath until she could see him standing over her. His expression was unreadable. He looked down at her like a shrewd critic might look at a moderately interesting painting. Then he surprised her by squatting down to flip back the covers. Instinctively her body moved away, towards the warm side and closer to the wall. She was about to ask what he was doing when she remembered her previous offer of sharing the bed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind, but it would seem awfully rude to object. 

Logan crawled into the bed and pulled the blankets over him. Immediately his body was pressed up against hers and she realised just how small the mattress was. His scent was all around her and unfortunately it wasn’t exactly pleasant. The odd mix of smoke, alcohol and sweat stung her nostrils. It served as an awkward reminder of her misadventure in the pub and she quickly turned to face the wall in an attempt to avoid it. 

“The important thing is to not let the dreams get to you,” Logan mumbled, his deep voice vibrating down her spine. 

Kitty blinked. 

Oh. She got it now; this was his attempt to comfort her. No doubt he probably thought her offer to share the bed was a subtle hint that she wanted some sort of company – someone to make the bad dreams go away. 

Well, she supposed, that wasn’t such a bad idea. Smiling slightly, she closed her eyes. 

A barrage of explosions, faces distorted with pain and twisted corpses shot forth from the darkness. Her eyes snapped open in shock. Logan’s advice was quickly ignored as a deep-seated panic consumed her. What if she could never get back to sleep? What if those horrible images would always be there? Tears began to fill her wide eyes. One of them dropped onto the mattress with a muffled splat. The rest began to pool in the hollow between her tear duct and the bridge of her nose. 

She struggled against the loud sobs that wanted to escape, all too aware that she had an audience. However, the shaking that racked her frame could not be stopped. Her face burned red; she didn’t want anyone to see her like this, least of all Logan. She was an X-Man; she should be prepared for anything, prepared for death. Why did no one ever tell her how to deal with this? 

An arm, still covered with the grubby grey jacket from earlier, draped itself over her shoulder. The hand rested inches from her startled face. Logan didn’t say anything, but the loose embrace felt oddly comforting. Somehow, words didn’t seem necessary. For the first time since leaving her parents’ house, Kitty didn’t feel desperately alone. 

Even though Logan wasn’t exactly a nurturing figure, and even though he’d abandoned the X-Men, he understood some of what she was going through. To a certain extent, he was in the same boat. So his embrace calmed the panic in Kitty’s chest. Eventually the tears stopped falling and her eyes grew heavy. Then, at last, the unthinkable happened and she drifted off to sleep. 


	5. Small Changes

 

Sunlight forced its way through her eyelids. Kitty reluctantly stirred, twisting the blankets tightly around her. She really didn’t want to get up, not when she’d spent the last few hours in a blissfully undisturbed slumber. It was like Logan’s very presence had scared the bad dreams away and Kitty felt infinitely better for it. But asking for a little more rest wasn’t too much was it? 

The bright daylight certainly seemed to think so. Kitty groaned and buried her face in the pillows, allowing the darkness to envelope her. Unfortunately, lying face down also meant that she couldn’t breath. 

With a gasp, Kitty lifted her head and finally surrendered, opening her eyes just a crack. The light was only slightly painful to adjust to, and she was soon blinking and rubbing away the sleep dust.

She twisted around to sit up, but paused halfway. The space next to her in the bed was empty. A quick scan of the room also resulted in the same conclusion. Logan was gone. 

Anxiety welling up inside her, Kitty sat up and searched the room for signs of where he might have gone. The pile of clothes in the corner hadn’t changed, and while Kitty hadn’t taken time to count the number of bottles on the floor, the amount still seemed mostly the same. In fact, nothing had changed to hint at the reason for Logan’s disappearance. 

The only other possibility was that he could be behind either of the two closed doors, which Kitty had failed to notice the previous night. She could only assume one was a kitchen and the other was a bathroom, but they were identical in style; both plain wood and cheap aluminum handles. Opening either of them posed as a potential risk, seeing as it was a fifty-fifty chance that she’d walk in on Logan in the bathroom. She decided it was probably better to say something first. 

Clearing her throat, she called, “Mr. Logan?” 

There was no reply. She considered calling again, but what was the use? He’d clearly done a disappearing act. Back at the Institute he always used to go off on his own, acting like a lone wolf. Apparently his habits hadn’t changed. 

Kitty gazed uselessly at the space around her. There was no real point in staying here; it stank and the walls looked like they were decomposing. She was sure she could find a much better place to stay in London. Besides, Logan was clearly more interested in the solitary lifestyle; there was no point in waiting for him to come back. 

With her mind made up, Kitty threw back the covers and clambered out of bed. She wasted no time in putting her coat and scarf back on, gave one last look at the hellhole around her and left it behind. 

The front door was stiffer than Logan had made it look and she spent a good couple of minutes just getting it to close behind her. It gave way with one final sharp tug and the lock clicked into place. With a triumphant yet irritable huff, Kitty turned and made her way down the corridor. 

“You going somewhere, kid?” a gruff, instantly recognizable voice called from behind her. 

Frowning, the young mutant turned around. 

At the end of the hallway was a large window – or at least it used to be a window before all the glass was knocked out of it – and reclined against it was the very man she didn’t expect to see. He was still dressed in the same filthy grey jacket, brown t-shirt and trousers from yesterday, causing Kitty to wonder just how long he’d been wearing that outfit for. 

His right arm was propped up on the windowsill, with a lit cigar dangling from his hand. The other arm fell limply to his side, holding a brand new bottle of whisky, identical to the one from last night. 

Kitty held back a grimace as she replied, “Oh, I thought you’d gone.” 

Logan’s eyes narrowed at her, but he almost immediately shrugged. “Just havin’ my morning smoke,” he replied, toting the cigar for emphasis. 

She wasn’t sure which was worse, having a former mentor so afraid of human interaction that he did a runner just because he’d had to comfort someone, or seeing a man she’d respected smoking and drinking his life away. It was probably the latter; there’d been warning hints for the first. 

“And your morning drink,” she said, raising an eyebrow. It would have been a question if it hadn’t come out sounding so harsh. “How very healthy.” 

Logan’s expression darkened. He tilted his head back to look down his nose at her. “I don’t think I need advice from a teenage girl who thinks it’s _cool_ to drink her problems away,” he said bitterly. 

Kitty blinked. His comment felt like a blow to the stomach. Surely he must have known that she’d only turned to alcohol because she had been so desolate. How could he comfort her and then say something like that? She felt tears begin to prickle at her eyes but fought hard to keep them back. 

“I don’t think it’s –” she started to reply, her voice wobbling slightly. However, a sudden thought made her stop in her tracks. “Wait,” she frowned. “Isn’t that just what you’re doing?” 

Logan dropped his head back down, eyes still fixed on her. “What?” he asked, looking very taken aback. 

Surging forth with renewed confidence, Kitty said knowledgably, “Alcoholics are always drinking their problems away. Then the alcohol makes more problems.” Just to cover herself, she added, “That’s what people say.” 

Logan’s eyes narrowed to tiny skeptical slits. “What?” he growled. “I am _not_ an alcoholic.” 

Behind his defensive front, Kitty was sure she saw evidence of guilt marring his expression, like he knew he wasn’t telling the truth. She smirked slightly in triumph. 

“Then prove it, give me the bottle,” she said boldly, holding out a hand to accept it, even though they stood much too far apart for him to easily do so. 

Stand your ground, she thought, make him come to you. After all, it was obvious that the man saw her as nothing more than a pesky little kid; that was how it had always been. But she was an adult now and if she wanted to be treated like one she would have to start acting more as his equal.  

“This is ridiculous,” Logan said vexedly, shoving his cigar into his mouth and rubbing the back of his neck. Clearly he didn’t agree with Kitty’s sentiment, but seeing her act like an adult certainly made him uncomfortable. 

“Give me the bottle and we’ll go get some real breakfast,” Kitty attempted to reason with him again, ignoring the giddy surge of power that threatened to inflate her chest to ridiculous proportions. 

“Where?” Logan scowled, glaring at her. It was perhaps the most childish response she’d had from him yet. Surely he realised he was fighting a losing battle? 

“I don’t know, somewhere. I hear there’s quite a few places to eat in London, you know,” she said derisively. 

OK, so it was only a losing battle if she didn’t sink to his level of immaturity. 

Logan’s scowl didn’t relent. He took a long drag on the cigar. Kitty distractedly watched the cloud of smoke rise and dissipate into the air as he brought his hand back up to his mouth. Grumbling something incoherent, he stubbed the cigar out on the windowsill. 

“Fine,” he growled. “But you’re paying.” 

Heaving himself off the wall, he stalked towards her and Kitty had to remind herself not to cower slightly as he got close. The dark expression on his face made it very hard, but she kept her cool, even as he shoved the whisky bottle into her still outstretched hand. She struggled clumsily to get a good grip. Thankfully Logan had turned back into the apartment and didn’t see her slight loss of composure. 

She stared at the bottle in her hand and contemplated her success. On the one hand she’d got what she’d wanted, but on the other hand Logan had damn well made sure she wouldn’t enjoy it. Footing her with the bill, just who did he think he was? Her scowl was enough to rival his as she entered the apartment. 

Inside, Logan was throwing clothes from the pile in the corner into another pile next to it. He was grumbling quietly to himself. Kitty couldn’t quite make out the words, but she expected they were just a stream of curses. He paused every so often to sniff a random garment before tossing it aside in disgust. 

Kitty blinked in surprise; it seemed that maybe he did care about his physical well being after all. Her plight to transform him from a repelling homeless man into the man she remembered might even be plausible. 

Seeing him attempting to better his appearance reminded her that it had been a few days since she’d last washed as well. It had been at least a day since she’d seen her reflection in something and after all her crying she bet she looked like an absolute mess. Her make-up would have disintegrated and there’d be grubby tear tracks all down her face, she was sure of it. 

Looking between the two doors on the wall next to her, she noticed a difference that had previously passed her by. Underneath the handle on the nearest door was a tiny little window showing half the word ‘vacant’ and half the word ‘occupied’. Well, that would be the bathroom then. Maybe there was still a mirror in there. 

Kitty went over and reached for the door handle, it creaked loudly as she pushed it down. The noise made Logan spin around. 

“Don’t go in there!” he cried. 

“What, why not?” Kitty looked back at him over her shoulder, but it was too late for him to tell her. A horrid putrid scent filled her nostrils, making her gag slightly. “Oh, gross, what is that smell?” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. 

The door stood half open and she couldn’t really see into the room, but somehow she got the feeling that she didn’t want to. 

“The toilet. There’s no water running through this place,” Logan explained matter-of-factly, even though there was an uncomfortable grimace on his face. 

“Eurgh, that’s disgusting!” Kitty said, hastily closing the door. It didn’t help very much; the smell was lingering in the air now. Desperate to get away, Kitty moved over to the other side of the room, where she was struck by a very practical question. 

“What do you do when you need the toilet?” she asked, not really wanting to know the answer. It was, however, a matter of necessary importance, especially if she was going to be staying with Logan any longer. 

The older mutant looked at her flatly. He was evidently as reluctant to reply, as she was to know the answer. 

“I go elsewhere,” he replied bluntly. 

The statement didn’t really answer much, but Kitty wasn’t sure whether she wanted to push the matter. Instead, she decided to divert the topic slightly. 

“What about when you need to shower?” she asked, careful to keep her tone in the realms of casual interest and far away from absolute disgust. However, Logan’s blank stare caused her to quickly retract the question. “Oh right, I get it now,” she said quietly, averting her gaze. 

“Get what?” Logan asked suspiciously. 

Kitty met his gaze briefly before her eyes flickered down. She could feel his glare hot on her skin; it was very clear that he was going to make her say it. She sighed. “Well, you’re not exactly – I mean – you don’t exactly, you know… smell… nice…” she answered in a small voice. 

Logan’s jaw clenched irritably. “Right. Thanks,” he said sharply. 

“Well you don’t!” Kitty said in awkward exasperation, her face tinged red. 

“I’m sorry it offends you,” Logan said sourly, throwing the item of clothing still in his hand down to sit with the rest of its kind. 

“You could just take a shower,” Kitty said earnestly. 

“How exactly?” Logan retorted. “You think I should just break into someone’s house?” 

The young mutant huffed irritably. She was pretty sure he was just doing everything he could to be difficult, even though the reason why escaped her. She knew he had a point, but it couldn’t be that hard to find a shower in London. They must have backpackers here all the time, there had to be somewhere they could freshen up. 

Catching the older man’s incredulous glare, Kitty shifted into a defensive stance. 

“I’m working on that,” she replied shortly. 

Her ambiguous statement was met with further skepticism. Logan looked like he wanted to argue, but pursed his lips and stalked out of the room. 

Left to stand alone for a moment, Kitty released the breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. It was pretty obvious that her former instructor didn’t appreciate being meddled with. Of course, that wasn’t going to stop her. She was doing it for his own good, and it served as a welcome distraction from the more depressing thoughts lurking at the back of her brain. 

In the end, Kitty managed to convince Logan to walk all the way to King’s Cross Station with her. She’d left her luggage in a locker there yesterday morning, when she went to go get coffee. Then that horrible news report had come on and made her forget all about it. But if she wanted to have a wash somewhere it would make so much more sense to have all her belongings with her. Also, there was quite a lot of English money tucked into one of the inside pockets, and if she was going to be paying for Logan’s breakfast as well as her own, then she would definitely need it. 

As they approached the station, Kitty was careful to walk straight past the offending café, her chest tightened and back went rigid all the same. Although the place had seemed nice at the time, just knowing it was still there made her feel sick. There was no way she could ever set foot in that café ever again. She decided that there was probably somewhere just as good inside the terminal, and she was right. 

The central promenade was lined with glass-fronted cafes, restaurants and fancy shops. Most of them looked a bit too bespoke and out of her price range, but just for a moment she pretended that she could have whatever she wanted from any one of them. A weight lifted off her chest and she remembered the other reason why she’d come to London – it just had so much class. 

Modern metal and frosted glass staircases led up to a second floor, which was more like an extended balcony, running all around the edge of the massive building. Then there was the high vaulted ceiling made of metal framework and glass, bathing the entire space below in crisp white daylight. Kitty stared at it in wonderment, admiring how it seemed so old-fashioned and modern at the same time. 

However, a rushing commuter ruined her moment of appreciation, as they bumped past her. The slight jolt brought her back to reality, causing her to notice just how busy the station really was. A constant flow of people were moving in and out of the building, some of them were walking so fast that they were practically running. 

Deciding it was probably best to get out of their way, Kitty moved on. She led Logan up the nearest staircase, partially because it looked less busy on the second floor, but mostly because it would afford her a better view of the fantastic station. Once at the top, she walked immediately to the nearest edge. Clutching a steel railing atop the glass border, she leant over to stare at the people below, who moved like swarms of bees. 

A casual check over her shoulder to see whether Logan shared her enthusiasm revealed that he was quickly losing patience. He stood there scowling, looking and probably feeling quite out of place. He definitely wasn’t enjoying being in such a busy environment. So Kitty quickly scanned for somewhere to eat and spotted a café not too far down, with tables and chairs outside its old brick exterior. 

It actually wasn’t too expensive and Kitty was just about able to buy their breakfasts with the remaining money in her purse. They sat on one of the tables outside, eating in silence. Kitty distracted herself with people watching and listening to the train announcements. Logan was clearly in a bad mood and she didn’t feel like having another argument, so she avoided striking up a conversation. After all, she recalled that the surly man had always eaten his breakfast in silence, back at the Institute. Normally he would have had his nose stuck in a newspaper, just so that he didn’t have to be a part of the children’s morning chatter. 

Kitty considered buying him a paper with her remaining change, but after emptying the contents of her purse onto the aluminum tabletop, it became quickly evident that she couldn’t afford anything. So she scraped it all back in and excused herself to go pick up her suitcase. Logan grunted some vague agreement to not moving from his spot and Kitty left with a devious look on her face. Now it was time to put her plan into action.

 

* * *

 

Logan dragged out a heavy sigh of boredom. Kitty had been gone for an incredibly long amount of time. Since she’d left he’d found a free newspaper called the _Metro_ , which he’d quickly found out was a pile of absolute drivel. The writers expressed small-minded opinions, which they could hardly back up, and any of the factual writing followed such an obvious formula that it only took reading two articles to pick up on every rule. Nonetheless he’d read it cover to cover. If he’d had a pen he would have finished the crossword puzzles already as well. 

He was beginning to regret ever having come to Kitty’s rescue. It wasn’t like she’d really needed his help and now he was stuck with her. It was becoming incredibly clear that she had no intention of leaving him alone. And that didn’t bode well for him, considering there was definitely no place in his lifestyle for a dependant teenage girl. 

However, on the other hand, he could hardly turn her away. As much as he hated to admit it, they were practically family. They both had to deal with prejudice from humans and hide who they really were. Also, if the articles in the _Metro_ were anything to go by, then it was more important than ever that they stuck together. It didn’t look like it would be long before the British Government passed the same registration act as America. Then it wouldn’t be long before the sentinels had entire world domination. 

His morbid thoughts were interrupted, as Kitty finally sat down opposite him. He looked up and was about to say something scathing about how long she’d taken, when a large white plastic bag was handed to him over the table. It had some sort of clothes designer label printed on the side. 

“Here,” Kitty said, sounding a little out of breath. 

“What’s that?” Logan asked suspiciously, making no move to accept it. 

“Stuff so you can have a shower. They have them here at the station. I’m going to have one so you may as well,” Kitty replied. She looked exhausted, as if she’d run several laps of the building. 

Logan studied her in bemusement. Had she actually gone and bought him an entire bag’s worth of wash stuff? He must really stink. 

Reddening slightly, he took the bag from her. It was surprisingly quite heavy, so he rested it on his lap to peer inside. Most of the contents were wrapped up in other plastic bags, making the act virtually pointless, although, he could see a big white fluffy towel resting at the bottom. He wasn’t entirely sure on the matter, but it didn’t appear to be the cheapest towel money could buy. She had actually gone out of her way to do this for him. Surely the breakfast had been enough of a repayment for his limited hospitality, wasn’t this going a bit too far? 

He looked up at her, seeing a hopeful expression plastered over her face. It made him cringe awkwardly and avert his gaze. 

“Err, thanks,” he said quietly. 

“I bought you a razor so you can shave off that hideous beard too,” Kitty volunteered optimistically. 

Logan frowned. “What do you mean hideous?” he asked, eyes narrowing at her. 

She faltered slightly, before saying, “Well, have you looked in a mirror lately?” Her tone was more honest curiosity than it was insulting, but Logan felt a blow to his pride all the same. 

He wanted to come back with something sharp, but nothing in his head sounded anything but petty. After all, she was right, he _couldn’t_ remember the last time he’d looked in a mirror. Of course he’d felt his beard was getting quite long, but up until this point he hadn’t really cared. He still didn’t. Who was she to push ideas into his head? 

Well, probably the person who had bought him breakfast and all this stuff. 

He groaned and rubbed a hand down his face, fingers brushing against the thick wiry hair on his jaw. Perhaps it _was_ worth sorting out. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said reluctantly.

 

* * *

 

After taking her shower, Kitty felt a lot fresher. She’d dressed in a new set of clothes; a black round neck sweater and dark jeans. It was the closest she could get to mourning attire for Scott, although, with her beige overcoat, the attempt seemed a bit pointless. Still, it helped to satisfy the little demon inside her that had taken to devouring her positivity. At least by embracing the sorrow she felt a bit stronger. 

She’d taken up camp opposite the showers and sat on top of her pink suitcase, with her back against the wall. Logan hadn’t come out yet, much to her surprise. She thought men were supposed to be much quicker at washing than women. But then, she supposed she hadn’t bothered to put on any more make-up or dry her hair. 

In all honesty, she’d been a bit keen to get out and see Logan as quickly as possible, because on top of buying him a towel and wash stuff, she’d also bought him a brand new outfit. 

From a logical point of view, there would have been no point in him taking a shower, if he was just going to put those stinking old clothes back on. But really, she’d bought the new outfit because she’d hated the old one. 

There was something iconic about the way Logan always used to wear jeans, a t-shirt and leather jacket. She knew her nostalgia could easily get her into trouble with the older man, but the second she’d seen a black leather jacket in a shop window, her fate was pretty much sealed. She’d perhaps pushed it a little far by buying him a sleeveless white top instead of the usual black t-shirt, but she got the feeling it would suit him. Besides, for the amount of time he’d spent in there, she was more worried that she’d guessed his sizes wrong. 

However, she needn’t have concerned herself, because at that very moment a man in a black leather jacket came out of the showers. His appearance caused her to do a double take, so that when he spotted her, she was staring foolishly.

The clothes were a perfect fit; from the way the jacket hugged his shoulders, to the waist and length of the jeans. The white top sculpted itself around his chest muscles, which Kitty was astounded to see, considering that he must have been spending the last two years doing little other than drinking. In fact, she found herself quite envious of him for that. 

Possibly the best part about his transformation, however, was the absence of that hideous beard. He’d shaved it away completely to reveal a strong, hard jawline. The result made him look ten years younger. 

“Now, doesn’t that look better?” she beamed as he approached her. 

“Dare I ask how you guessed my sizes?” Logan asked apprehensively, dumping the white bag, now filled with dirty old clothes, at her feet. 

“Call it women’s intuition,” Kitty replied brightly. 

“I’d call it woman’s wandering eye,” Logan said, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, the boxers…” 

“Fit, do they?” Kitty asked chirpily, attempting to hide the fact that standing around in the men’s underwear section, trying to guess the right size, was actually one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. 

“Perfectly,” Logan said, eyeing her suspiciously. 

“Well, good then,” she said, jumping to her feet and trying very hard not to blush. Who’d have thought her harried random guess was so accurate? It wasn’t like she’d been looking at his waist. Definitely not. 

“Shall we go,” she said quickly, picking her suitcase up. 

“Sure,” Logan replied, taking it from her grasp. 

She stared at him in surprise, but her eyes were rapidly drawn to the side of his face. He had neglected to shave off the hair there, which had left him with thick sideburns. His long hair, which rested just above his shoulders, deceptively disguised them but there was no escaping their existence; they were practically muttonchops. 

She frowned. “Not sure about the sideburns.” 

“I like them,” Logan huffed, picking up the white bag in his other hand. 

“Ah, alright,” Kitty relented. “At least the clothes look nice.” 

“Yeah, um, thank you for that,” Logan said awkwardly, fixing his gaze somewhere over Kitty’s shoulder. 

“You’re welcome,” she smiled at him, earning a weak smirk in return. 

They then proceeded out of the station and Kitty lost herself in a reverie. She couldn’t believe how easy it had been to exact the first step of her plan to transform Logan. And she’d succeeded with limited opposition. She just hoped that the next stages went as well, because if they did she might even be able to bring back the Wolverine. Then those anti-mutant assholes would really have something to worry about. 


	6. Small Minds, Big Guns

 

New York City was nothing like it used to be. As one of the most influential cities in America, and being so close to the Xavier Institute, it had become a battleground for the war against mutants. 

Skyscrapers were left as jagged thorns sticking out of the piles of rubble. Streets were empty and lifeless. All the old shops and businesses were closed down or moved away. The city was a pitiful and lonely sight. 

However, out of the debris came patterns of green; weeds were wound between rocks and crept over buildings, trees were overgrown, pushing up paving slabs with their roots, and foot-high grass forced its way out of the cracks left behind. It just went to prove that although humankind had left New York in disarray, life had still found a way of flourishing here. 

Kitty walked down a street that should have been full of cars, fumes and noise. She was instead confronted by the oppressive silence of a city barely alive. There were no sounds of birds or creatures rustling in the undergrowth, like one might expect when nature took over. But then she couldn’t blame them for not wanting to live in a forest that was more stone than green. 

There was a figure approaching her from the other end of the vast road. They were too far away to make out: just a tall, thin black smudge against the horizon. 

She contemplated whether to hide or approach the stranger. After all, there were rumours of powerful and dangerous mutants that lived deep in the blackened bowels of this city. The person before her could be a mindless murderer. 

On the other hand, they could be an ally, and something about them seemed strangely familiar. So Kitty stayed on the road and continued to walk forward. Every step felt like she was walking on air, and time seemed to slow as the two approached each other. 

When the stranger’s face came into focus, Kitty inhaled sharply. The man before her wore red tinted sunglasses and smiled down at her. 

“Kitty,” he said kindly. 

Her bottom lip wobbled. “You… You… Is it really you?” 

“Of course it is,” he grinned. 

“But you died,” she said shakily. 

Scott smirked playfully, dropping his head. When he looked up, his face slowly contorted into an evil sneer. 

“Oh, Kitty,” he replied, voice full of malice. She recoiled nervously. “You should know that I can never die!” He grew to a snarling crescendo. 

He pulled at the skin on his neck. Kitty looked on in horror as it tore and shredded. The skin stretched in sinews as his face was ripped away. Underneath she saw the cool glint of metal and stumbled backwards to get away. Her feet crossed each other and gravity took hold. As she fell, Scott’s red sunglasses fell with her. They shattered on the ground. 

When Kitty looked back up, she came face to face with a Scott-sized sentinel. Sinister red lights glowed where his eyes should have been. 

“Mutant detected,” he said monotonously, a metallic twang disfiguring his normal voice. 

“No,” Kitty whispered. 

A metal arm rose up, palm flexed to face her. There was a round glassy disc embedded in it. A yellow spark flickered in its centre.  

“Destroy mutant,” the Scott-sentinel said. 

The yellow spark expanded to fill the disc. 

“No!” Kitty screamed. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t escape. She was frozen in terror. 

The yellow light exploded before her. A searing heat consumed her body and she screamed. Every nerve exploded with fire. She shrieked and coiled in pain. 

Everything turned black, but she didn’t stop screaming. Not until her throat went dry and hoarse. 

In the darkness she heard the growling of an enraged animal and her body tensed in trepidation.  

“What? What is it?” a voice snarled. 

Kitty’s eyes darted around. She was in Logan’s apartment, sitting up on the mattress with the blankets twisted in her fists. In the middle of the room Logan was stood with his claws out, hunched over in a position ready to attack. When Kitty realised that he was the growling, incensed animal she thought she’d heard her body relaxed a little.

She blinked, shaking her head. A fast-paced pounding in her chest confirmed that she was definitely alive and hadn’t just been killed by a sentinel wearing Scott’s skin. 

She was covered with a thin layer of sweat that was quickly cooling in the night air, causing her flesh to tingle. The sensation persuaded her to believe she was awake. 

“I… I… bad dream,” she croaked. 

It had felt so real, just like the one from the night before. Only this time, when the yellow beam had engulfed her, it had actually hurt. Were dreams supposed to do that? Was it normal to feel pain, as if she were dying? 

She swallowed, trying to coax some saliva back into her raw throat, and wondered whether these nightmares were going to become a common part of her life. Would they ever allow her to sleep again? 

She was alerted slightly by an irritable groan from Logan’s direction and the _snikt_ of claws returning into his forearms. 

She supposed she should probably apologise for waking him, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she was quickly cut off. 

“Move over then,” Logan grunted, walking over to stop at the mattress. 

She stared up at him in surprise and attempted to reply, but found herself to be rendered mute. There was a determined, single-minded expression on Logan’s face, as if he’d decided it was his duty to comfort her and no arguing would stop him. Kitty did, however, get the feeling that he was resisting opposition from himself rather than her. 

She wasn’t sure whether she really wanted to object anyway. There was no denying that she’d slept better after Logan comforted her last night, especially when she’d thought she would never be able to close her eyes again. And there was every chance that his presence would save her from another night’s fitful visions. 

She was still tremoring as she shifted over to the far side of the bed. Her fists were knotted persistently into the blankets, and she had to muster all her will to let go. She turned onto her side, hand brushing the coarse fabric as she did. It was crumpled and damp with sweat where she’d been holding on, and if it weren’t for the blankets she’d probably have four bloody welts in her hands. 

Logan lay down behind her, breathing heavily as he adjusted his position. There was a cool draft as he lifted the blankets, quickly replaced by the radiating warmth of his body. This time, when Kitty breathed in she didn’t smell the putrid combination of cigar smoke, alcohol and body odour. Instead, Logan’s scent was more like a woody musk, and if Kitty weren’t so shaken by her dream she would have smiled. He had used the deodorant she bought him, and just like she’d expected, it suited him perfectly. 

They lay still for a long time. Kitty’s mind was in far too much turmoil for her to close her eyes, and Logan’s breath, which spread softly across the back of her neck, didn’t grow any deeper. 

He didn’t wrap his arm around her, like the previous night. Although, she had burst into tears on that occasion, which had probably been the prompting factor. This time, her eyes remained strangely dry, and Kitty decided to owe it to how much the dream had shaken her. The very concept of Scott, the leader of the X-men, being turned into a sentinel, just made the skin crawl. She was more concerned with whether it was actually possible, than why or why not she was crying about it. 

It felt like hours before the pressing weight of Logan against her back eased her discomfort. Feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest between her shoulder blades and the increased rush of air on the back of her neck, she was pretty certain that he’d drifted back off to sleep. 

She found the pattern somehow soothing and even though the Scott-sentinel pushed against her eyelids, she let them slowly droop down.

Thankfully, when her eyes closed, she found nothing but black oblivion and fell quickly into its open embrace.

 

* * *

 

“Who do you think he is?” a voice whispered, swirling out of the empty darkness. 

“Dunno, but he’s with her,” a different voice replied, tinged with hatred. “He must be a mutant.” 

“Well, do you think it’s OK? We don’t know what he’s capable of,” the first voice asked anxiously.  

A shuffling of feet forced their way into Logan’s consciousness. They sounded distant and muffled, and he became distinctly aware of the reason why. He was still asleep. Or at least, he was meant to be. 

“Look, just shoot him in the head. No one’s gonna survive that, not even a mutant,” the second voice whispered irritably. 

If there was anything that could disintegrate the vestiges of sleep, it was a statement like that. Logan kicked his brain into gear, summoning all his senses, but doing everything he could to remain still. 

“But what about the girl?” the first voice asked. It was male and judging by the intonation, the owner wasn’t very old either.   

“I’ll shoot her. Now get your gun ready, we’re gonna do it at the same time,” the second voice replied. It also belonged to a man, but the gravel tones suggested that he was either a lot older or a heavy smoker. 

Logan sniffed, disguising it as deep inhalation to maintain the illusion that he was still fast asleep. He could smell five different scents in the room besides Kitty’s and his own. He also caught the faint whiff of gunmetal and powder. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he exhaled. This was not going to be an easy fight. 

There had to be two men in very close proximity to the mattress and at that sort of range, they were almost guaranteed to get a shot in before he could get to them first. Even if they didn’t, their buddies standing behind them would. 

But then, Logan did have the element of surprise on his hands, and he expected that he was probably faster than any one of these idiots. The only thing he needed to worry about was nervous trigger fingers. And Kitty. 

“OK,” the first man said, and Logan heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being hefted up to aim at its prey. His whole body tensed, ready to spring up. 

“After three. One… two…” 

Logan leapt to his feet, claws sliding out as he did. He span on the spot. The first target came into view. In one swift movement, he thrust forth a fist. The claws sunk deep into a skinny, young man’s chest. He screamed and the shotgun slipped out of his fingers. It landed on the floor with a heavy _thunk_. 

The feral mutant looked up into the young man’s startled face, watched the blood dribble down his chin, and felt nothing. 

Pulling out his claws, he turned to a now captive audience. Four men stood with shotguns and only one of them ready to fire. They stared at him in terrified silence as their cohort’s corpse buckled and fell. 

He eyed them all, assessing the direction his warpath would take. They were like rabbits in headlights; this was going to be so easy. 

He smirked and growled, “Three,” before lunging at the man ready to shoot. 

With the countdown complete, the men were stunned into action. Someone shouted, “Shoot him! Shoot him!” and loud gunshots filled the room and muffled in his eardrums. He struck at the long, dark barrel of a gun before him. His claws sliced right through it, showering powder and chunks of metal on the floor. Its owner staggered back, but Logan filled the space. He slashed the man across the chest: once with his left arm and once with the right. 

Not stopping to watch the man fall, he turned on the next. This one was ready. He aimed and shot. Logan ducked and hit him with a deadly uppercut. His fist forced right through the man’s jaw and it shattered. His face exploded as Logan pulled his claws loose. 

He spun on the next victim. This one had backed into the corner. His hands were shaking and the shotgun rattled. His finger trembled on the trigger. Logan snarled in disgust and marched towards him. The finger squeezed the trigger. Once. Twice. 

Pain blasted through Logan’s body. His face scrunched up tight. He roared and charged. The man desperately fumbled with the mechanism to break open his shotgun, but he got nowhere close to loading the shells, before the feral mutant forced him into the wall, skewering him through the chest. 

The man’s screams were interrupted by gurgling splutters, as blood filled his lungs. Logan’s head dropped and he gritted his teeth, forcing his haggard breath to whistle through the gaps. His brain was falling over itself to inform him of the current damages. Pain seared deep in his gut and any cell that wasn’t dizzy with agony was very aware of the warm blood pouring down his legs. The smell of it filled his nostrils, the metallic tang sitting at the back of his mouth.  

His body raced to heal itself. Organs sewed themselves back together, muscles and sinews began to rejoin, and blood cells reproduced. But two shotgun rounds were enough to kill a man twice over and the process was slow. 

“Are you OK?” a shaky, high-pitched voice called from the other side of the room. 

Kitty. 

He mentally cursed himself for forgetting to wake her. Apparently the noise had done that for him though. 

“M’fine,” he growled, following with a hiss that betrayed his lie. “You OK?” 

“Yeah,” Kitty replied, as if genuinely surprised that she’d survived the bloodbath. 

Screwing his eyes shut, Logan forced the pain to the back of his mind, shutting it behind as many imaginary doors as he could, before retracting his claws from the man’s chest and lifting his head. He came face-to-face with a wide-eyed corpse. It was a sight that should probably unsettle most people. Not him though. 

Pushing away from the dead man, Logan mustered every ounce of strength he had into standing up. He swayed a little to the sound of a corpse sliding down the wall. 

When the black dots cleared from his eyes, and the woozy feeling of light-headedness lifted, he tasked himself with turning to face Kitty. 

She was stood on the mattress, face white as a sheet. To her credit she wasn’t trembling or showing any other signs of fear, if anything she was quite composed. 

Well, she was until her eyes fell on his stomach. 

“You’re – You’re bleeding,” she stammered in horror. He couldn’t be sure, because it was possible that the extreme blood loss was causing him to hallucinate, but he thought he heard a hint of concern in her voice. Why the girl should care about a cold-blooded killer who had left her in the dust was beyond him. Still, it was a nice notion. 

Pleasant enough, in fact, to make him desperately turn his attention to other things. His eyes drifted along the back wall and quickly fell on a welcome subject. After all, it wasn’t every day that one saw the bottom half of a man’s body sticking out of the wall. 

Frowning, Logan ticked over the last few minutes in his brain, counting one kill at a time. One, two, three, four…He’d missed the last attacker, and if Kitty hadn’t taken care of him, Logan could easily be dead. They both could. 

Aware that the girl was still watching him, he decided that some sort of response to her statement was in order. He looked down at a top that was now more red than white. There should have been a smattering of tiny holes in the fabric, but they were unperceivable in a room that was so dark that the blood down his jeans was rendered nearly invisible. 

Still, Kitty didn’t need to know the extent of the damage. She was already in danger of going into shock and he needed her to stay focused. After all, from previous experience Logan knew that when surrounded by dead bodies, the best thing to do was run very fast and very far. 

“Yeah, sorry I ruined your shirt,” he muttered in a poor attempt to lighten the conversation. 

“But – oh my God – they shot you!” Kitty cried. 

“I’ll live,” Logan deflected, and he knew that he would. His body had taken far more punishment in the past. 

The more important issue was what to do next, and he had a good idea of how to go about it. Watching the surviving man’s legs shuffle in a vain attempt to get more comfortable, Logan stalked to the open apartment door. 

“Stay in here,” he ordered Kitty. 

At the doorway he checked for fresh scents, turning his head back and forth, sniffing intermittently. He was more than a little relieved to find out their attackers hadn’t brought back up. 

A lifetime of experience in covert operations insistently informed him that these men couldn’t possibly be professionals. The likelihood of them having been sent by anyone with a specific agenda was also very slim. So just who were they? 

Logan spun on his heels, ignoring the vociferous protest from his stomach, as he approached the head and shoulders of a very alarmed looking individual. 

“Please, please don’t kill me!” the disembodied fool begged. 

The feral mutant halted to face him with a cold, shrewd glare. What he saw was a coward, whose tears mingled with sweat, that dripped from his brow and collected on a shiny upper lip. He wasn’t a killer and never should be. This man’s biggest mistake was trying to be something he wasn’t, and unsurprisingly, Logan wasn’t in the mood to forgive him for that. With a snarl, he clenched his fist and brought it up to jut into the soft flesh underneath the man’s chin. 

The way that the quivering fool’s eyes bugged out of their sockets suggested that he’d seen Logan’s claws in action, before finding himself in such a compromising position. That was good, because Logan didn’t think he was capable of any threats more dynamic. 

He closed the gap between their faces for further effect – a small measure of intimidation, which didn’t make him feel like his guts were about to fall out. 

“Who sent you?” he growled. 

The man yelped in panic and attempted to writhe away. Logan’s fist carefully followed his movements. 

“Please, please…” the man whimpered. 

“Who sent you?” Logan repeated with a more guttural growl. 

Seeing that his attempts to escape were entirely futile, the coward gave up with resistance. There was nothing left to do aside from answer the frightening mutant’s question.  

“No one did,” he said, voice wavering. 

Logan gave a frustrated snarl. “Who are you? Why did you want to kill us?” 

Frightened into submission, the man responded quickly, “Because you’re mutants.” 

Rage boiled in Logan’s veins. He was genuinely surprised that he was able to keep his claws sheathed. Several creative thoughts of how to differently end this idiot’s life swiftly came to fruition, but he ignored them all. He had to gather all the facts first. Clarify and consolidate. 

“So you hunted down an innocent girl and tried to kill her in her sleep, because she was a mutant?” he said, bloodlust inescapably dripping from every syllable. 

“If we don’t kill you first humankind will be wiped out,” the man spluttered. Despite being petrified, there was a mad conviction in his eyes. He sincerely believed in the statement. 

Logan scowled in distaste. “There any more of you nutjobs out there?” 

The fool fixed him with a manic expression, his mouth tilting up into a smirk that belied his circumstances. 

“Hundreds,” he spat. 

Logan groaned internally – that was exactly _not_ what he wanted to hear. However, it did mean that he’d more or less run out of questions, at least for now. 

The close-minded nature of the men who’d attacked them was also typical of those who didn’t think on a larger scale. National organizations, no matter how barbaric, were typically more functional than these imbeciles. That meant that if there really were hundreds of anti-mutant activists that ran in the same circle as them, then they would be mostly localized. Therefore, the only necessary conclusions were that it was no longer safe in London, and that there could be no guarantees for anywhere else. 

Logan considered the man before him. His comrades had been killed out of necessity; there had been few other options of incapacitating them in such a confined space, when they’d had the tactical advantage. But this man was trapped and posed no imminent threat. There were a great number of non-lethal alternatives for how to deal with him. Yet, at the same time, his bigoted statements and the fact that his friend had blown two holes in Logan’s stomach worked very much against him.  

Decision made, the feral mutant snarled, “Then they won’t miss just one.” He forced his fist harder into the man’s chin. 

“Wait, wait, please don’t kill me!” the coward wailed. 

“Why not?” Logan spat, pushing harder still. 

“Because I’ll go back and warn them. I’ll say you shouldn’t be messed with,” the man winced. 

“Mm, nah,” Logan said coldly. “I’ve always felt actions speak louder than words.” 

“No, please, d-” the sniveling fool’s cry was cut short by the sound of three very sharp blades piercing flesh. 

His killer stood still for a moment, eyes seething with rage and hatred. The warm, sticky sensation of blood pouring over his fist was the only thing tethering Logan to the worldly plain. He drew on it, replacing revulsion with bitter satisfaction. 

Shutting his eyes, he refocused his attentions. The gaping wound at his core was still sending urgent signals to his brain to shut down and focus on healing. He was probably losing more blood than he was reproducing, but there was no time to rest; he would have to mend on the go. 

Stalking back into the apartment, Logan found Kitty standing in the spot he’d left her. The horrified, nervous expression on her face meant that she’d probably eavesdropped the entire conversation through the wall. Therefore she was totally aware that he’d just killed a man in cold blood. He didn’t particularly care what she thought of that. These cowards tried to kill them in their sleep just because they were different. As far as he was concerned, they deserved to be slaughtered. 

“Grab your stuff, we’re leaving,” he ordered her gruffly. 

Picking up the pace, he wrestled his leather duffel bag from under the pile of stinking clothes. There was no point in taking any of them, but he did pack the cigars and whisky bottle he’d concealed in their depths. 

“What? Where are we going?” Kitty replied sounding startled. 

Logan moved to the bed she was still stood on and whipped a couple of blankets out from under her feet. 

He didn’t want to have to tell her that there was probably nowhere safe for them, and that no matter where they ran, they’d have to keep watching their backs. So instead, he replied bluntly, “North.” 

“Why north?” Kitty frowned. 

Turning to the white bag of his new possessions, Logan emptied its contents into the duffel bag and zipped it up. He straightened up and winced as several scabs reopened. 

“More space to hide in,” he replied simply. 

Kitty had nothing else to say to that, so she got her belongings together as Logan pretended not to struggle with putting on his new leather jacket. The inside lining would be ruined by all the blood, but he didn’t own anything else that was dark enough to conceal the crimson stains on his shirt. Seeing as every movement seemed to reopen the wounds before they could heal, there wasn’t much point in changing his top either. 

Finally managing to zip his jacket up, Logan turned to see that Kitty was ready, standing there in her beige overcoat and holding her ridiculous pink suitcase. He scowled at the thing; its colouring was far too obnoxious. It was probably the reason they’d been tracked back here in the first place. 

Making a mental note to ensure she bought a new one, he asked, “How much money have you got left?” 

“About £200,” Kitty replied. “Why?” 

“We need to catch a train.”


	7. Regrets Collect

 

 

They had to wait at the station for the first train to arrive. All the time, neither one of them let their guard down. Kitty was too troubled by the night’s events to even think about sleep. She was so wired; it was as if she’d had four triple espressos. 

When the train came, there were only a handful of other people who got on it, so thankfully they got an entire carriage to themselves. Logan picked a seat with a table in the centre and leant against the window. Kitty wasn’t an idiot; she could tell he was still in a great deal of pain, and that he needed the window to keep upright. He winced every time he had to bend down or stretch his abdomen, and although she hadn’t seen the crucial moment when he was shot, the amount of blood she’d seen on his top meant that he was hurt bad. 

He needed to repair more than anything, which meant that it was up to Kitty to defend them if anyone else came along. Knowing this, she took up the aisle seat diagonally opposite from the older mutant. The position gave her a perfect view up and down the carriage and even through the glass doors either end. If shotgun-toting madmen stormed the carriage she’d be ready for them. 

But as time went on, and they traveled further and further north, the likelihood of an ambush seemed to grow more and more distant. Stations went by with no one stepping on, as others stepped off. 

Logan’s eyes slowly closed and he fell into a light doze. He twitched and started every time the train jolted or stopped at a station, but for the most part he remained very still. 

Kitty tried not to stare at him too much, and her attention was mostly divided between checking the aisles and watching the flurry of green farmland go past outside, but she couldn’t help wondering what had been going through his mind when he’d killed those men. She tried to unravel his motives by studying the creases in his brow, but it was like trying to navigate a map with no words, key or compass. 

There was always the possibility that he was just incredibly hostile towards intruders, she mused – after all, the only two times Kitty had seen him kill were almost identical situations. Admittedly, compared to the first occasion Logan had been more restrained this time. He’d been ruthless, but he hadn’t blindly decimated the intruders into pulp. 

Kitty still remembered that night, when everyone else had been sent back to bed, she’d let her curiosity get the better of her and taken a slight detour via Logan’s room. She’d overheard him admit that he’d been stuck in a nightmare; that he hadn’t known whom he was killing. The thought that it could have been the students he’d turned on had disturbed her at the time. And tonight that fear had hit her like an aftershock. It had almost paralysed her too much to respond to the man pointing a gun at her head. But then she’d had a flashback to the time that crazy scientist had put a chip in Logan’s brain – he’d held back from killing her then, even when he could hardly control his own mind. She knew that there was some instinct deep inside the feral mutant, which wanted to protect rather than kill. 

That was what she thought she saw tonight. The men who’d attacked them were more than intruders; they were deadly threats. Logan had acted out of the urge to protect. 

Yet the biggest question remained: why kill them? Kitty had seen the older mutant take out hundreds of people before using non-lethal force. So what had changed? 

He’d even killed the man that she’d phased into the wall, when the threat was long gone. Either something had shifted in the man she knew, or she’d never really known him at all. 

The train jerked violently as it switched tracks. Logan’s eyes shot open and Kitty quickly dropped her gaze to the plastic tabletop between them. The older mutant shuffled in his seat, making uncomfortable, grumbling noises. 

Defeated by her curiosity, Kitty chose to stare at the seat opposite, allowing Logan’s actions to appear unfocused at the edge of her vision. 

He pulled at his jacket, sliding an arm in from underneath and brushed down his front. At first, Kitty wondered what on earth he was doing, and had to fight the urge to stare outright. However, she didn’t need to when she heard the sound of metal chinking on the hard linoleum floor. A couple of small pellets rolled into her foot and she lifted it up, cringing slightly. Something about making physical contact with the shots that had previously been inside her companion’s body left her feeling uneasy.  

Logan grunted, leaning forward over the table to reach behind his back. He dug out a final metal pellet and dropped it on the white plastic surface. It rolled across the top, leaving a hairline trail of crimson, before falling over the edge. Kitty grimaced. It was remarkable and disturbing all at the same time, to think that Logan healed so quickly as to just force the shots out of his body. 

Although, the fact that the tiny lumps of metal were now traveling down the length of the carriage reassuringly meant that Logan had healed, and Kitty didn’t need to be quite so on edge. She braved a glance at the older mutant, trying to subtly check him up and down for any signs that he might still be injured. The sentiment was not appreciated. 

“What?” Logan scowled at her. 

Kitty supposed that she really should have known better than to be seen worrying over the one former X-man who’d thrown himself into any situation, regardless to his wellbeing. Then again, on this particular occasion, he hadn’t really had a choice. Those men had been after her, not him, and yet he’d been caught in the crossfire. 

Kitty thought she’d kept such a low profile since leaving America. How people had discovered that she was a mutant and managed to track her down was beyond her contemplation. The anti-mutant activists were obviously more persistent than she’d ever imagined. 

“It’s happening again, isn’t it? England is turning against us, just like America,” she said morosely, not quite sure whether she’d intended to think aloud. 

Her statement was met by a low growl from Logan. “Yeah,” he replied, not sounding too happy to admit it. 

“Then is The North going to be any safer than London?” Kitty asked. She’d been considering the question over and over for most of the train journey, but hadn’t wanted to disturb Logan enough to ask it.  

“Probably not,” he replied bluntly. “But we can start fresh, keep a lower profile.” 

Kitty wondered just how surreptitious they could be, when she’d hardly used her powers since leaving America and still picked up a deadly trail. But she decided not to voice that concern; it wouldn’t really help either of them. 

What they really needed was a whole other country to hide in, more space and less recognition of mutants - if a place like that still existed - the entire world knew about mutants and no one really liked them. Their best hopes of survival was to find somewhere secluded, where less bigoted, suspicious people could find them. Maybe they’d get that in North England, maybe not, but they had a much greater chance than they would in America. With sentinels stalking the streets and Scott dead, there was little hope for the place Kitty had once called home. 

The X-Men family was broken and scattered around the globe. Very few of them had stayed to fight alongside Scott when the Institute was compromised, and now he was gone, there was little hope for those that remained. 

Kitty liked to think that they had escaped the attention of the sentinels; that they’d found somewhere to hide or had left America altogether, just like her. She just hoped that wherever they were, they were safe, and more importantly, alive. 

Dealing with Scott’s death resulted in the constant turning over of unpleasant emotions, and the one that she’d been avoiding the most was guilt. 

Guilt that she hadn’t been there to help; that she’d chosen to hide at home when other X-Men went out to fight. 

Professor Xavier had made it very clear that he didn’t expect anyone to stay on the team. In fact, he’d actually tried to send everyone back to their homes, and even found places for those who had no family to return to. Kitty had taken the easy option out, because at the time it hadn’t seemed so bad to register her powers. All the government had wanted was a record; they didn’t say anything about arresting mutants because they thought they could be dangerous, and they definitely didn’t say anything about sentinels killing mutants that resisted arrest. 

If she’d known how things would turn out, Kitty would have stayed to fight. She’d be out there destroying sentinels, and maybe she could have been there to save Scott. Instead she’d fled halfway across the world, scared and alone, with no hope of finding the remaining X-Men. 

Although, having found Logan, she was at a far greater advantage than she could have ever imagined. Together they could watch each other’s backs, and with his expert tracking abilities, maybe the possibility of finding the X-Men wasn’t so bleak. Given the recent developments, Logan might even want to help fight. 

Excited by the concept, she volunteered, “We could always try and find the X-men.” 

Unfortunately, she was met with a sharp and resolute, “No,” from Logan. 

“Why not? If there’s nowhere safe for us we may as well have strength in numbers,” she pushed. 

“’That’s what you want then you can go. I’ll be fine,” Logan replied gruffly, staring intently out the window. 

Kitty sank in her seat. Of course he wouldn’t want to rejoin the X-Men, who was she kidding? The stupid man was far too busy wallowing in alcohol and self pity to spare any time for the people he’d once called family. Kitty didn’t want to admit it, but Scott was apparently right: Logan just didn’t care. 

However, the thorn that dug the deepest was his flippant suggestion that they parted ways. It was one thing to be dispassionate for those who were halfway around the world, but another to be so callous to direct company. Kitty wondered how little her presence really meant to him.  

She was sorely tempted to do as he said. At least by traveling alone she wouldn’t have to put up with his foul temper, and she’d find far better company with the other X-Men. Who said they needed Wolverine, anyway? 

The only problem was she had no idea where or how to start looking, and she mumbled something along those lines before staring fixedly out of the opposite window. 

They completed the rest of the journey in stubborn silence. A few people got on their carriage as the morning dragged on, but no one sat close. Whether that was because they could feel the waves of tension radiating from the two strangers in the centre of the carriage, or whether they just liked their own space, Kitty didn’t really care. She felt like she might snap at the next person who even looked at her, so it was very fortunate that they kept their distance. 

Eventually they got off at a city called Durham. It had an old-fashioned British countryside feel, with cobbled streets and old brick houses, surrounded by dense foliage. There was none of the hustle and bustle of commuters that London fell prey to, but enough people to blend into so they didn’t draw any attention. 

They walked down street after street, sometimes looping around to stand back where they’d been five minutes ago. Kitty didn’t need to ask to know that Logan was leading her around to try and shake off any tails they might have picked up from the station, but it didn’t do any better to calm her temper. 

Her feet began to strain over the discomfort of walking on cobbled stone and her arms grew tired of carrying her suitcase, which bounced about and made far too much noise to be pulled along by its wheels. 

She was close to stopping and snapping at Logan, accusing him of dragging her around as punishment. But he eventually stopped outside a café with large glass windows. Kitty peered inside to see small wooden tables covered in plastic red and white check tablecloths, chairs with backs woven out of straw and a counter displaying a selection of very tasty looking pastries. There weren’t many people inside, and it looked like the perfect place to take a break. 

She hazarded a glance at her companion and found him to be staring back at her, with a similar apprehensive expression. 

“Breakfast?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

There was no doubt that Kitty was very keen to take him up on his suggestion. Her stomach was so empty that she reckoned she’d be able to eat every pastry the café had to offer. But that didn’t mean she forgave Logan for being a massive jerk, so she didn’t reply and pushed past him. As she leant on the glass door to enter the café she caught sight of his reflection. His perplexed expression caused her to smirk involuntarily. As petty as it was, she felt like she’d had some small measure of revenge, especially when she let the door slam back in his face. 

He caught up with her inside, standing a few paces behind her as she approached the counter. Stood behind it was a woman in her forties, with greying brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She was wearing a white apron over her plain grey jumper, and had a cheerful yet homely look about her.   

“Can I help you?” she smiled politely. 

Kitty fell prey to her infectious smile and pulled her lips tight in an unwilling reciprocal response. Finding the interaction somewhat awkward, she began to study the pastries in the glass display. There were a great number of different shapes and sizes, some of which she didn’t recognise. 

“Yeah, I’ll have a coffee and a bacon sandwich,” Logan said from behind her. 

The woman nodded and turned her expectant attention to Kitty. Feeling pushed to make a decision, she said, “I’ll have a coffee too, and uh –” she scanned the display for anything that looked familiar, eyes settling on a row of sugar incrusted, bulbous triangles of pastry. A distant memory that left her feeling a little homesick prompted the decision. “Two apple turnovers please,” she finished. 

Lost in a reverie of how her mum used to make turnovers out of the apples in their garden every summer, Kitty didn’t immediately notice that the woman behind the counter was looking at her expectantly.  

“Sorry?” she blushed slightly, hoping to cover her blunder by pretending that she’d simply misheard something. 

“I said that’ll be £7.90 please,” the woman said kindly. 

“Oh, right,” Kitty said. Of course, it wasn’t like Logan was going to pay for breakfast. She doubted he had a cent to his name, not after seeing all those empty bottles of whisky in his apartment. 

She delved into her coat pocket and pulled out her purse to count out the money. After she handed it over, the woman assured them that she’d bring the food to their table, so they took a seat opposite each other by one of the large windows. 

After shuffling the bags around and getting comfortable, Logan mumbled a quiet “Thanks.” 

Kitty looked up at him in surprise. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t be having breakfast if it weren’t for you,” he continued, avoiding eye contact. 

Kitty marveled at him for a moment. It was almost impossible for her to get a read on the man; he seemed to defy any of her preconceptions, and just when she thought she’d worked him out, he went and did something to turn her around. After all, showing gratitude, when he’d only recently hinted that he didn’t even care for her presence, what was she to make of that?  

Staring at the steam that rose from her coffee, Kitty decided that she didn’t really care for the man’s complexities. Her feet hurt and all she wanted to do was rest. So if that meant just accepting his gratitude and getting on with it, then that was exactly what she would do. 

“S’fine,” she mumbled in reply. 

The food arrived, and as they ate the tension around them slowly dissipated. Kitty just didn’t have it in her to keep a grudge, not when she was so exhausted. Eventually the silence between them fell into the category of companionable, and Kitty decided that even though Logan’s bad points seemed to outweigh the good, staying with him would beat traveling alone. At least they’d have strength in numbers. 


	8. Anger Issues

 

After eating, Kitty excused herself to the toilets, and Logan took the opportunity to grab a little shuteye. Having had less than three hours sleep and two shotgun wounds to recover from, it was no surprise that his eyelids felt heavy. He’d been vigilant about checking for any tails before settling down in the café, so he felt like he could afford a few moments of rest. 

He still let all the sounds of the environment wash over him, remaining alert for any sign of disturbance. He listened closely to snippets of conversation to see if anything interesting came up. It was a habit he’d become used to over the years, knowing that people’s tongues were hardly looser than when they thought only their friends were listening. The only way he’d get a better perspective of the area was to go into a bar, where eventually everyone became friends, and their tongues grew even more flexible. 

The café wasn’t coming up with much, except that after a few minutes of listening Logan knew where a restaurant did really great fish and that there wasn’t much work in the area for builders. 

He was very close to giving up with the activity, when he overheard the agitated sounds of an argument brewing. He focused out all the other noise to listen. 

“Just what were you trying to do, huh?” a male voice challenged his opponent. 

“I wasn’t – I’m sorry, but I didn’t do anything to harm anyone,” a young female voice replied defensively. 

Logan frowned, the tone of that voice sounded very familiar. There was Valley Girl twang to it, which stood out like a sore thumb in a traditional English café. It could only mean that Kitty had gotten herself into trouble. Again. 

“That’s rich! You scared my girlfriend near to death. Who knows what else you would have done if you’d had the chance,” the man continued aggressively. 

Logan sighed. All he’d said was to keep a low profile, was that such a hard order to follow? He opened his eyes and took in a deep breath, rushing oxygen through his body. The action pushed back his fatigue and he stood up with a new lease of energy. The legs of his chair screeched on the tiled floor, but Logan paid the noise no attention, instead turning to focus his observations on the conflict. 

At the back of the café a tall man of medium build with cropped blonde hair was towering over Kitty. He didn’t look much older than thirty, yet he was dressed in ripped jeans and a band t-shirt, like he thought he was younger. Behind him stood a dark haired woman, also in her thirties, wearing an accusatory glare directed at Kitty. Despite her circumstances, the young mutant was doing her best to stand tall and keep it together. 

“I wasn’t going to do anything to her,” she replied evenly, meeting her persecutor’s gaze. 

As he approached, Logan studied the tall man’s menacing stance. His fists weren’t clenched, so it didn’t look like he was going to start with any violent behaviour, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to back down and let Kitty go easily. 

The only way to avoid exposing themselves any further was to cut this argument as short as possible and get away as quickly as they could. Logan was sure he could do both of those things with great ease. Whether he wanted to was another issue. 

He reached out and rested a hand on Kitty’s shoulder. She flinched away from his touch and looked like she was about to strike out, until her gaze met his. In her expression he recognised the look of an animal backed into a corner, but it was accompanied by the suspicion that she had only herself to blame for being there. It was an expression he’d seen a lot in mutants over the years, and it never ceased to make him angry.  

“There a problem here?” he growled, eying the tall man. 

“Yeah, that _freak_ tried to attack my girl,” he replied, jabbing his finger in Kitty’s direction. 

“Really?” Logan said. He tried hard to not let the ‘f’ word get to him, but he’d had an unpleasant history with the people that used it. 

“Yeah,” the tall man retorted fervently.  

Logan frowned and turned to look back at Kitty. He knew there was absolutely no way the girl would openly attack someone; she wasn’t the sort to start idiotic fights, especially when they were meant to be keeping their heads down. Clearly, the man’s story was a colourful embellishment of the truth, and Logan was beginning to find him increasingly objectionable. His original decision to cut and run was quickly losing its merit, and an instinctual urge to play with his prey began to surface. 

Pulling a tight smirk, he kept his back turned to the man. 

“I didn’t know you were a freak,” he said to Kitty with mock sincerity. She returned him an ambiguous look, as if to suggest that she didn’t quite know how to respond to such a statement.  

“Wait, you _know_ her?” the tall man asked incredulously, as if Logan had admitted to some filthy fetish. 

Eyes narrowing, Logan turned to stare down Kitty’s aggressor. “Yeah, you got a problem with that, bub?” 

The tall man recoiled slightly, but didn’t halt in his offensive. “Well, she’s a freak,” he said. 

“Really?” 

“A mutant,” he explained. 

“Don’t bother me,” Logan replied flatly. 

“But she’s dangerous,” the tall man said, with the wavering conviction of a preacher trying to convert a madman. 

“Ha, Kitty here is about the least dangerous person there is,” Logan scoffed as he stepped up to the tall man. “Unless you push her,” he added with a devilish smirk. At such a small distance their height difference became much more pronounced. It didn’t matter though; Logan didn’t need to use his height to intimidate. “Me, on the other hand…” he said huskily. 

“Logan,” Kitty cautioned him. 

He really didn’t want to back down. Every primal instinct was yelling at him to punch the man in the face, rip out his eyes or tear open his throat. His claws were itching to pop out, and he had to flex his hands to alleviate the pressure.  

However, the warning in Kitty’s tone had a clear point attached to it; starting a fight was worthless. It would only cause more trouble, which was a shame, because Logan really wanted to teach the man a lesson that he’d never forget.  

He snarled irritably, and pierced the arrogant fool with a deadly glare. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he growled. “We’re going.” 

He turned on his heels to see that the entire café was now captivated by his presence; not exactly the low profile he was hoping for. 

Keeping his head down, he walked back to the table and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Next to him, Kitty was busily picking up her suitcase, and he moved to the door to speedily ensure their exit. 

Just as his hand grasped the wrought iron handle, his highly attuned sense of hearing picked up a whisper that no one else at his distance should have heard. The tall man muttered under his breath, “Damn freaks.” It was barely audible, but the barb sunk deep. 

Logan’s grip tightened on the handle, thumb rubbing forcefully down it. The primal instincts screamed louder than ever, so much so that they blotted everything else out.  

He crossed the café so quickly that he’d hardly noticed himself do it. His body moved autonomously, arching back with his arm, before springing loose. His fist collided with the man’s face, sending him flying back into the table and chairs behind. 

The tall man’s girlfriend screamed in shock. Logan’s chest heaved from maintaining what little hold he had left on his control. He wanted to leap on the narrow-minded imbecile and tear the flesh from his bones, and it took every ounce of self-restraint to just stand there. 

“Logan,” Kitty said in a small voice. “We should go.” 

There was softness in her tone that was so calming, he didn’t care whether it was artificial or not. It allowed him to pull away from the tumultuous rage that threatened to engulf him. 

Gaze falling on the fool that had provoked him, Logan accepted that he’d probably done enough. The man was sprawled on the floor, his hands encasing his face. There was blood spilling out between the man’s fingers, and he stared back up at him with wild, panicked eyes.  

Giving him one last stormy look, Logan re-shouldered his bag and turned to leave the café. He ignored the petrified faces that followed his every movement, but checked Kitty’s as he walked past. She looked both guarded and relieved at the same time, as if she’d expected to be leaving behind another room of bloody corpses. 

He ignored the sentiment outright, and pushed open the door to heave in a lungful of cold, refreshing air. It rushed through him, and blew back the rage clouding his mind. 

Once sure that the younger mutant was following him, he set off as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. They made their way down the cobbled street and Logan was very careful to listen out for sirens or angry shouting voices. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Kitty said, once they were several streets away and had lessened the pace. 

“He deserved it,” Logan grumbled. 

“Well, still…” Kitty argued lamely. 

Logan twisted his neck to look back at her. It was very clear that she was far from angry with him, in fact, when they locked eyes, her face split into a grin. 

“Thanks,” she said earnestly. 

Logan’s mouth pulled up at the corner in a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “You’re welcome,” he said, turning back to face the street ahead. It was mostly empty, with only a few people, mostly the young or elderly, milling about the shops. 

Logan had long since lost track of the days, but he assumed it could only be a weekday, meaning most people were at work, which was good for not drawing too much attention, but bad if someone was looking for them. 

After their little stunt in the café, the safest thing to do was leave town, but just how far they had to go was mostly dependant on what the witnesses would say when the police turned up. 

“What d’you do, anyway?” he asked Kitty. 

“I err… got caught using my power,” she replied nervously. 

“I worked that one out,” Logan said flatly. 

When she didn’t say anything else, he frowned at her. She had a timid, embarrassed expression on her face and was clearly very reluctant to respond. Logan had no patience for her to play coy. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. 

“Well, I –” Kitty started, quickly finding great interest in her feet. “I was using the washroom and there was no loo roll in my cubicle, so I just reached into the next one and – and that woman saw me,” she trailed off quietly. 

Logan’s feet stopped dead. 

“You did _what_?” he snarled. 

For a moment, Kitty didn’t realise that he’d halted, and had to double back to face him. Her eyes were wide with nervous anticipation. 

“I checked first! There was no one else in there so she must have come through the door just at the wrong time,” she justified herself, but her tone sounded more pleading than anything else. 

“What do you not get about ‘low profile’?” Logan snapped. 

“Well, you’re the one that just sucker-punched a guy!” Kitty retorted. He could see in her eyes that she was still terrified of him, but that hardly seemed enough to make her back down. Normally Logan would appreciate a trait like that in someone, but all he felt was the re-ignition of his anger.  

“ _I_ didn’t use my powers in public,” he spat. 

“Well _I_ didn’t hit someone in a room full of witnesses!” Kitty argued, her voice getting dangerously loud. 

“Which I wouldn’t have had to do if it wasn’t for you!” Logan hissed, his eyes wild with fury. 

Kitty stopped abruptly, the hard set of her jaw fell slack. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” she winced. “I didn’t think anyone else was around and… I’m sorry.” 

Logan seethed. There were about a million and one different lectures he could give her. The only problem was most of them would make him a hypocrite. Even the one about not abusing her powers would leave a bitter taste, after having spent the last two years relying on his regenerative ability to save his liver from alcoholic petrifaction. 

All the same, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit cheated by defending the girl for such a foolish reason. It was sheer carelessness that had put them in this situation, and he wasn’t likely to forgive her for it any time soon. 

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he muttered “ _Girls,”_ under his breath and stormed past her. 

“I’m sorry!” Kitty cried after him, hurrying to catch up. 

Refusing to acknowledge her apology, Logan didn’t break his gait. 

“We’ll get the bus to the next town over. Come on,” he grumbled irritably. 

Kitty fell silent and followed him obediently. 

It took a while to find the right bus stop. First they visited the central bus station, but after seeing policemen standing by the waiting room entrance, Logan quickly turned tail. 

The next bus stop had a map of all the different routes, which showed that only one bus would take them far enough to get clear of the city, and it ran from the central station. So he tracked the route along to a bus stop that was a comfortable distance from any potential run-ins with the police. It was nearly an hour’s walk away and they arrived only to discover that the next bus wouldn’t arrive for another hour. 

In that time, the sky filled with dark, ominous clouds, which split open and showered them with heavy, icy rain. Kitty took refuge in the small, hut-like shelter beside the bus stop. Logan, on the other hand, felt no urge to escape from nature’s onslaught. The anger seething within in him seemed petty and small compared to the wrath of the elements, but at the same time, they fell into a sort of harmony. 

His clothes were soaked through, and his hair was plastered to his head before a pair of headlights shone through the dense rain. He stretched out an arm to flag it down and turned to face Kitty for the first time in hours. 

She was sat huddled deep into her coat, looking incredibly miserable. Logan felt a slight pang of regret for treating her so harshly. After all, she didn’t have years of survival experience like he did, and Scott’s death was probably weighing heavily on her mind. 

Yes, her foolishness had caused him a lot of trouble since she turned up, but at least he’d had something to do other than crack open bottle after bottle of whisky. At least he was beginning to feel alive again. 

Meeting her somber gaze, he shouted over the rain, “You got the money?” 

She moved slowly to check her pockets; her arms were probably made stiff by sitting in the cold – something that Logan often forgot affected others more than him. He waited patiently, but became very aware of the bus screeching to a stop behind him. 

Kitty’s hands came out of her pockets empty, her eyes wide with panic. 

“Shit!” she hissed, starting to tear through the pockets on her suitcase. 

Logan’s stomach flipped when her erratic behaviour didn’t cease. “Don’t tell me you’ve _lost_ it,” he moaned, just loud enough for her to hear. 

“No, no,” she reassured him unconvincingly. “It’s got to be here somewhere,” her tone was laced with alarm as she started to delve through the suitcase’s main compartment. 

Logan clenched his eyes shut in a frustrated attempt to not lose his temper again, but the bus driver’s voice quickly cut the activity short. 

“Hey, you getting on or not?” he called. 

Eyes snapping open, Logan turned to face him, pulling a dangerous grimace of a smile. 

“Depends, will you take us for free?” he asked, despite knowing full well what the answer would be. 

The bus driver didn’t even justify the question with an answer; instead he settled back into his seat, shut the doors and kicked the engine into gear. Logan growled after the bus before circling on Kitty. 

She’d given up searching through the suitcase and taken to staring despondently at the empty space in front of her. 

“Well?” Logan prompted through grit teeth. It wasn’t really like he needed to ask, it was pretty clear what had happened. 

“I must have left my purse at the café. It had the last of my money in it,” Kitty replied glumly. 

“Great,” Logan sighed. He regretted even trying to sympathise with the girl; she was just a walking disaster. 

“I could go back and get it,” Kitty volunteered. 

“Forget it – it’s long gone,” Logan said harshly. 

Even on the off chance that someone hadn’t picked up a purse with over £100 in it and taken it for themselves, Kitty could hardly approach the Police about it. There was nothing else for it; they would have to continue without money. 

Logan had never disillusioned himself and knew that eventually what little resources Kitty had would run out. He just hadn’t expected to lose their source of income so quickly. 

Still, he’d been penniless for quite some time and he’d survived just fine. All he had to do was teach Kitty to do the same. 

“Well then what do we to do?”  she asked desperately. 

Logan looked up and down the road. It disappeared into a foggy haze in both directions, greatly reducing the distance he could see. The rain clouds above were dark and heavy and showed no signs of clearing. But despite the bad weather conditions, they still had to leave the city with great urgency. There was only one thing for it; “We walk,” he said. 

Kitty looked up at him desolately, but she didn’t object. She nodded once and zipped her suitcase back up before heaving it up off the seat next to her. She hesitated a little when stepping out of the shelter to surrender herself to the elements, but came to stand next to him, her head hung low. 

Logan blew out through his nose as he watched her. He supposed that at least she knew she’d messed up; there wasn’t much point in torturing her for it. 

“Come on,” he said, a little more softly.

They set off down the road together, silently listening to roar of rain around them, and taking what little comfort they could in the knowledge that at least neither of them were walking alone. 


	9. The Ghouls Come Out To Play

 

Kitty had no idea how long they’d been walking for. What she did know was that the dual carriageway they were walking down seemed to spread on for eternity, and that the rain apparently had no intention of ever stopping. Her clothes were soaked through and their weight made every step one bit harder to take. The only thing preventing her from shivering was the sheer amount of heat her body had produced from walking their never-ending journey. 

However, she could feel the cold settling in her extremities, and every step she took made her sodden ponytail smack irritatingly against the back of her head.  Her feet were pounding in pain, and her arms felt ready to fall off after hours of dragging her suitcase along the coarse, bumpy tarmac. 

All in all, she was cold, wet and miserable. The rain had made visibility so poor that the gradual transition into night had completely passed her by. But it now meant that she had to strain her eyes just to make out the details on the back of Logan’s jacket. 

They hadn’t spoken to each other since starting out, and at first it hadn’t bothered Kitty. She had been far too wrapped up in self-loathing to even think about striking up a conversation. But after hours of being lost in her thoughts, the bitter emotions lost their sting and she came to accept the situation as it was. After all, people made stupid mistakes all the time. It wasn’t like she was the first one to lose a purse with a lot of money in it. 

But the way Logan was acting, she was tempted to believe the contrary. He hadn’t bothered to look back at her once since they’d started out, which left his temperament entirely to her imagination. For all she knew, he could be a few heated moments away from skewering her. He hadn’t exactly responded to her slip-ups with calm forgiveness, and the more she thought about it, the more Kitty decided it would be beneficial for her well-being to find out just where she stood with the older mutant. 

Clearing her throat, Kitty asked, “Are you mad at me?” 

At first, Logan didn’t respond. Kitty wondered whether she’d spoken loud enough over the rain, but her doubts were squashed when he grumbled, “What makes you say that?” His manner was obviously evasive and didn’t do anything to dissuade Kitty’s suspicions. 

“I dunno,” she said, concentrating on her feet. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell whether you hate me or if you’re just plain grumpy.” 

Again, Logan paused before answering. “I don’t hate you,” he said, sounding slightly pained, and Kitty couldn’t help but feel unconvinced by the statement. The way he’d said it suggested that there was some inaudible ‘but’ attached to the end of the sentence, and Kitty was pretty sure she knew how to complete it. 

For clarity’s sake she stated, “But you are mad at me?” 

She was convinced that she saw Logan’s shoulders hunch and mentally prepared herself to phase, just in case he got itchy claws. 

“Not… really,” Logan said, struggling to get his words out as if trying hard to hold something else back. 

_Not really?_  

Kitty frowned. She expected that he’d wanted to say a whole lot more. Perhaps he’d held back to be nice, but Kitty found that a hard concept to swallow. 

No matter what the reason was, it was evident that he was still mad at her for putting them in this situation, and she didn’t blame him. After all, she’d been stupid enough to get spotted as a mutant twice, once with nearly lethal consequences that had put them on the run, and then she’d gone and lost her money. Even though Logan had rudely been treating it as their shared fund, it was still a pretty stupid thing to do and put them at a serious disadvantage.    

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling the need for an apology. “I know I messed up – like, three times consecutively – but I’m not really used to this sort of life.” 

The last part sounded like a pathetic excuse, but after hours of turning the events over and over in her head, it was about the only explanation Kitty had for why she had managed life on the run so miserably. Unless she wanted to factor in her response to Scott’s death and the frightening nightmares she’d suffered since, but that was something she wanted to admit out loud even less. 

“Well you need to get used to it quick,” Logan replied, with his typical gruff demeanour. “I can’t always baby-sit you.” 

Kitty blinked. She may have been deep in self-loathing, but she still had a sense of pride. “I don’t need babysitting!” she retorted. 

“Oh really? So what you gonna do next time someone tries to shoot you in your sleep?” Logan quipped. 

Caught by surprise, Kitty scrabbled for a convenient comeback. She hadn’t really thought about the possibility of that horrid situation repeating itself. She had just assumed that if they kept their heads down, then there’d be no more madmen with shotguns. 

“I’ll… learn to phase really fast,” she answered lamely.   

“Hmph,” Logan scoffed, not sounding impressed. 

To be fair, she wasn’t surprised that he mocked her answer, but she knew if it came to it, she’d find a way to survive. She’d been trained as an X-Man and learning to adapt hade been a daily lesson. If anything, Logan’s dismissal of her abilities only served to rile her. 

“Look, I’m not the sweet innocent little child you seem to think I am,” she snapped. 

Logan fell back in step with her so that they were walking almost parallel to each other. He eyed her with a scrutinous stare that she found hard not to wilt under. 

“Really? You ever killed someone?” he asked, maintaining his shrewd expression. 

Kitty gulped, the blunt question making her feel a bit hot and uncomfortable. She averted her gaze from the older mutant, watching instead the collision of raindrops against the tarmac ahead. 

“No,” she replied. 

“You ever thought about killing someone? So much so that you actually planned it all out?” Logan pressed. 

“Well… no,” Kitty mumbled awkwardly. 

“Then in my books, you’re as innocent as they come,” Logan said gruffly.   

Kitty frowned. His conclusion hardly seemed fair; it wasn’t like she still lived a sheltered life with her parents. 

“I’ve seen things,” she said. “Lots of really messed up stuff.” 

Although the first thoughts that jumped to mind were mostly of Logan tearing men apart with his claws, Kitty had seen her fair share of the bizarre and morbid. She’d had people crawling around inside her head, messing with it on more than one occasion, and she’d seen plenty of mutilated bodies, not just by her feral companion’s hand. If that didn’t diminish her innocence, Kitty didn’t want to know what did. 

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Logan said bluntly. 

Kitty scowled. She was sure that the man was just being difficult on purpose. 

Determined to have him recognise her as an adult, she blurted, “Well there are other ways of losing your innocence, you know!” 

“Are there?” Logan said. He didn’t sound convinced. 

“I’m eighteen, a fully grown adult, of course I’ve lost my innocence by now!” Kitty snapped indignantly. 

She wasn’t really thinking straight, spurred on too much by the need to prove herself as Logan’s equal. If she did have a clear head, she would have probably stopped with this trail of conversation. 

“Pray tell, how exactly?” the older mutant asked skeptically. 

“Well you know, with boys and stuff,” Kitty said heedlessly. 

Logan froze in place, a perfect picture of shock painted on his face. For a moment he seemed unable to move forward, and Kitty looked back at him, more that a little perplexed. 

She was beginning to wonder whether the root of the problem was that Logan had failed to comprehend that there’d even been a two year gap since they’d last seen each other. If he really had been spending all that time just getting drunk, then she supposed it might feel like only a few weeks had passed for him. 

Like an old computer rebooting, Logan eventually shook his head and slowly started putting one foot back in front of the other. Not looking at her, he finally acknowledged her declaration with a quiet, “Oh, right.” 

Uncertain as to whether she’d actually caused the information to sink in; Kitty followed him, checking for any signs. He was definitely avoiding her gaze and hunched over a little more than before, but she couldn’t quite tell if that was out of awkward embarrassment, or if he was just being his regular, antisocial self. 

Finally, he turned to look at her with a frown and said, “Just how many boys?” 

“Oh, you know, a few,” Kitty replied, quite unable to believe that she’d struck a chord with the older mutant. 

“I see,” Logan said stiffly. 

“I only went all the way with a couple of them,” she added earnestly. 

Logan flinched. “I don’t really need to know that,” he said, clearly disturbed by the thought. 

“But it proves my point. I’m not as innocent as you think I am,” she prompted him, nervous that she’d revealed something deeply personal for no avail. 

Logan looked away, cringing. “Definitely not now,” he mumbled. 

Almost entirely certain that she’d put her foot in it again, Kitty fell silent. In retrospect, she decided that telling him she’d lost her virginity was probably the wrong way to prove her maturity. But at least the man had something to think about; at least she’d proved she wasn’t a little child. 

The roaring rain gave way to the sound of a car approaching, and a harsh white light rapidly cast creeping shadows on the terrain around them. The two travelers turned back to squint in the bright beams. 

It had been hours since the last car had passed them. Logan had stuck his thumb out to hitch a ride, but the driver had ignored them, as if they were nothing more than ghosts. Kitty was sure that she wasn’t alone in hoping that this next driver would be a bit more compassionate. 

Again, Logan stretched out his arm, thumb pointing to the sky. As the car approached it showed no signs of slowing. 

“Come on,” Kitty whispered. 

It was impossible to make eye contact with the driver, with the headlights flaring in her vision, but it quickly became obvious that this car wasn’t stopping either. 

Kitty braced herself for the spray of ice-cold water as it went past. Some flecks hit her face like tiny sharp needles. She did her best to ignore them.  

Logan growled, returning to face their faraway destination, and with a sigh of resignation, Kitty followed suit. 

“Tell you what,” Logan grumbled, after a moment of silence. “You’re so worldly, why don’t you use your charms to get us a lift?” 

Brow knitting together, Kitty stared at her companion. “What?” she asked disbelievingly. 

“Well, no one’s going to pick up a grizzly old man like me, but a young attractive female like yourself…” Logan continued, taking on a slightly playful tone. 

“Alright, alright,” Kitty snapped quickly, doing her best to ignore the flush spreading on her cheeks. “You could have at least tried to sound like you meant that.” 

She was pretty sure that she heard a soft chuckle from Logan’s direction, but when her gaze flickered over, his expression looked suspiciously blank. 

Grumpily, she checked the road behind them. Far away in the distance she could see the twinkling of white headlights. It was time to perform. 

She tried to mentally prepare herself, although she was hardly in the mood to act alluring, and it was going to be particularly hard when she looked like a drowned rat. However, there was always the possibility that she could win the sympathy vote. 

A dark shape darting away in the corner of her eye quickly distracted her focus. She turned to see Logan disappearing into the undergrowth on the side of the road. 

“What are you doing?” she called over to him. 

“Well we can’t let them see me, what would be the point then?” Logan called back. 

“So you’re just going to hijack my ride?” Kitty scowled.  

“Pretty much,” Logan replied casually. 

Kitty groaned and returned her attention to the road behind. The lights were much closer now, the long creeping beam just metres from her feet. There were so many things that she could find wrong with this plan, but at the same time she was desperate to get out of the cold and wet. Her companion clearly wasn’t going to help, so it looked like it was up to her. 

“Super,” she grimaced, sticking out her thumb. 

There was an additional row of lights above the main headlights that dazzled Kitty’s eyes, and a deep rumbling noise cut through the rain. It was very clear that this particular vehicle was much larger than a car, most likely a truck. However, she was far too blinded to tell and settled for pulling a hopeful smile and waiting to see what would happen. 

As it turned out, fate seemed to favour her, and the truck decreased in speed. It screeched to a stop a few feet ahead of her. 

Unable to believe her luck, Kitty ran to the cabin at the front. The door swung open, bathing the hard shoulder in warm yellow light. She stepped into it, imagining the soft warm rays of the sun and looked up into the promising vehicle. 

There were two steps up to the passenger seat, so she had to crane her neck to even see the driver on the opposite side. He was leaning over towards her, his face fixed with a friendly smile. His hair was short and greying, and there was a smattering of grey stubble on his chin, which somehow complimented the weathered lines marking the rest of his face. He was dressed in a large navy blue jacket, making him look both blessedly warm and dry. 

“You out here all alone, love?” he called to her in a thick northern accent. 

“Um…” Kitty hesitated. She was pretty sure that she should be honest about the fact that she had a friend hiding in the bushes, but she had no idea how to verbalise something so strange. 

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride,” the truck driver said kindly. 

“Where are you going?” Kitty asked, deciding to avoid the topic of Logan’s whereabouts altogether. 

“Final destination is Whitehaven, love,” the truck driver replied. 

Kitty hesitated when she realised that her question had been redundant; the only city in England she knew was London. She had no idea where this Whitehaven place was or if it would even be safe. 

Filled with doubt, she turned back to search the undergrowth for Logan. There was a chance that he’d have a better idea than her about where they were – assuming that he’d retained any information about this new country he called home.  

A dark, thorny looking bush that seemed just tall enough to hide a man, started to quiver. Logan stepped out from behind it and walked up into the light. 

“That’ll do fine,” he said, brimming with confidence. 

“Oh, there’s uh, two of you,” the driver said, sounding taken aback. 

Kitty flinched. She knew it had been a bad idea for Logan to hide out of sight. It gave the image that they were more likely to steal the truck than ask for a lift. 

Eager to do some damage control, she turned back to the driver, and using her sweetest, most imploring expression, she said, “Is that ok?” 

The man’s mistrusting face softened. “Course it is love, but your friend will have to ride in the back, only room for one more up front,” he smiled, patting the passenger seat. 

Kitty’s eyes followed the motion tentatively. She didn’t much like the idea of sitting with a complete stranger, especially when she had no idea how long their journey would take. But it seemed like she had little choice; if she wanted warm and dry, she’d just have to settle for awkward and nerve-wracking. 

She made a move towards the cabin steps, but Logan quickly shouldered her out of the way. He pulled himself up onto the first metal step and peered inside. 

“Nah, there’s loads of room on that seat, come on Kit,” Logan said in a tone that chilled her blood. She realised a second later, when he looked back at her with an uncharacteristic grin, that the reason it had frightened her was because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard him sound so carefree. It was such an incredible piece of acting; she was almost too stunned to play along. 

Feet stumbling slightly, she moved forward, at least managing to mask the shock on her face. She attempted a smile as Logan helped her up the steps into the truck, but kept her head down once inside, not feeling brave enough to withstand the driver’s scrutiny. 

The inside was very spacious, with a deep foot-well that Kitty could comfortably fit her suitcase in and leave room for her legs. The grey passenger seat would have been wide enough to fit two of her in, so at least she knew that Logan’s acting hadn’t been too over the top. However, she was nonplussed as to why he’d bothered in the first place; she doubted he’d care about riding in the back and unless he’d sensed her trepidation, there was no reason to insist that they shared the seat. 

Still, he stepped in behind her, threw his bag to join her suitcase in the foot-well and slammed the truck door behind him. Kitty settled in the seat, but quickly discovered that while it would have comfortably taken her twice, sharing the seat with Logan wasn’t going to be quite as simple. 

He was much broader than she was, and when he sat down, her left leg was nearly crushed. Thankfully she was fast enough to whip it out of the way, and after some awkward shuffling they found a half decent position where her left leg was only slightly propped up over his right. Her back was twisted towards the driver, pushed forward by Logan’s torso, and his arm was lost somewhere in the gap. 

It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable position in the world and did little to ease the tension. It made Kitty wonder whether it really would be better to make Logan sit in the back with the cargo. 

“Well, OK then,” the driver said. He didn’t sound too happy with the situation either. Still, he put the truck into gear and pulled off. 

It took a while for the huge vehicle to gain speed, and as it did Logan shifted behind her, pulling across a black seatbelt. He attempted to reach around her to buckle it in, but with his right arm lost behind her back, he could only stretch so far. Kitty abruptly took it from him, keen to make the situation no more awkward than it had to be, and she snapped it into place. 

The driver watched them out of the corner of his eye, making Kitty feel very self-conscious. She tried to involve herself in studying the dark grey dashboard, but it didn’t look dissimilar to any she’d ever seen before. 

Finally, the driver’s gaze switched back to the road ahead and he said, “So, you guys are American, huh?” 

Nervously, Kitty replied, “Oh, you could tell?” 

“Well, the accent does give you away,” the driver replied jovially. “So what are you doing in England?” 

Kitty wavered. It probably wouldn’t help the tense atmosphere to begrudge the man information, but she could hardly tell him the truth. She supposed it was time to come up with an appropriate alibi. 

“Oh, you know, we’re just like, traveling and seeing the sites and stuff,” she said, pulling a good-natured smile. 

She’d obviously sounded convincing enough, because the driver replied, “Yeah, had a good time so far?” 

Not missing a beat, Kitty replied with a false grin, “Oh yeah, the best.” 

The driver reciprocated her false humour in earnest, and he took it as a cue to further the conversation. “My name’s Pete, by the way. Do you mind if I ask yours’?”  

“Oh,um,” Kitty stumbled, rapidly discovering that her brain wasn’t moving fast enough to come up with a fake name. However, she doubted there’d be any problem in telling a truck driver her first name. “I’m Kitty,” she said, and after a moment’s awkward silence from her companion, she added, “and this is Logan.” 

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet ya,” Pete said. If the older mutant’s mute behaviour bothered him, he didn’t show it. Instead he continued with his curious inquest. 

“So what are you doing this far up north? Not much to see around here,” he said. 

“Err…” Kitty lingered, desperately scrounging the recesses of her mind for any dormant information about English geography. 

Thankfully, Logan stepped in to save her. “The wall!” he said abruptly. “Hadrian’s Wall.” 

“Heh, yeah,” Kitty confirmed, as casually as she could. 

“Oh, you want I can drop you in Carlisle?” Pete asked. 

Kitty panicked at the increasing abundance of unfamiliar place names. Luckily, however, her companion seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of the local geography, because he replied, “Nah, wouldn’t mind a bit of sea breeze first.” 

The carefree inflection in his voice was still persisting and although it seemed unnatural, Kitty decided that she was starting to like it. Listening to him speak in such a way, she could almost pretend that the last couple of terrible years hadn’t happened, and that they weren’t on the run or penned in by anti-mutant activists. 

Pete clearly seemed to think that Logan was out of his mind for wanting to visit the sea, and it probably had something to do with the time of year, but he shrugged all the same. 

“Well, whatever floats your boat,” he said, maintaining his concentration on the road. 

The conversation ground to a halt. Whether Pete was now suspicious of their cover story or not, he didn’t let on. But Kitty was quite thankful that she didn’t have to task her exhausted mind with creating any more convenient lies.   

She settled herself into the seat a little more comfortably and allowed her eyes to droop. There was a soft warm breeze coming from the ventilators on the dashboard that encouraged sleepy thoughts. 

Logan seemed to be equally as effected, because his voice rumbled through her. “You mind if we catch a few zees? Didn’t get much sleep last night,” he said, retaining his casual tone. 

“Sure, be my guest,” Pete replied. 

And with that, Kitty’s eyes firmly shut. The roar of the vehicle’s wheels on wet tarmac slowly muffled as her consciousness drifted away. In the end, she forgot where she was entirely. She was warm and nearly dry, and that was all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

Logan tried hard not to fall asleep altogether. He didn’t trust the truck driver, and knew better than to let his guard down, especially in a vehicle moving at sixty miles per hour. However, the constant, heavy heat blowing in his face was a tough adversary. His eyes ached too much to keep open, and in the darkness behind his eyelids he fell prey to fatigue.  

He struggled to keep his senses about him and listened carefully to the deep rumbling of the engine to ensure that he stayed awake. But the monotonous sound only dragged him deeper into sleep’s oblivion. His head slowly lowered, falling closer and closer to his chest. 

When his eyelids flickered open, he had no idea how much time had passed. It felt like just seconds, but it could have been hours. His vision was blurry and the dark of the cabin made it hard to discern any details. There were still no streetlights by the side of the road and night had fallen darker still. 

However, through the gloom, he could just about distinguish something moving in his line of sight. Still half asleep, he attempted a blink to refocus his vision. The moving object was pale against the darkness. It moved shakily towards him, before four slender parts flexed in order from nearest to furthest. 

Squeezing his eyes tighter, Logan stared at it once more and recognised the shape as a hand. It was then that he realised with stomach-churning clarity that the darkness was in fact Kitty’s leg, and that the hand was far too big to belong to her. 

Limbs stiff with fatigue, he reached across to clumsily strike at the hand. It recoiled as if struck by acid and disappeared from sight.  

Logan frowned. Although he was still groggy, it didn’t take much brainpower to work out that the hand had belonged to the truck driver, who had taken advantage of their slumber to succumb to his more sinister impulses. 

It came as little surprise, as the sort of person who stopped to pick up a lonely young girl from the side of the road rarely had noble intentions. However, Logan had hoped that his presence would deter any lewd behaviour. Apparently his falling asleep had given the man all the courage he needed. 

Still, if he could just stay awake and alert, then there was no reason to terminate their journey prematurely. Even if their driver was a disgusting pig of a man, it would be best if they could get to somewhere civilised before ditching him. 

Shifting to sit more upright, Logan focused on the road ahead, hoping that the next city wasn’t far away.

 

* * *

 

He awoke with a start, rapidly blinking the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Just getting some coffee, won’t be long,” Pete said. 

The sound of a door opening and slamming shut jolted Logan to his senses. He quickly scanned his surroundings and discovered that the truck was stationary. 

Through the front windscreen, he could see the glow of a petrol station standing alone in the darkness. Pete had parked the truck on some sort of by-road. Off on the right, the motorway disappeared into an inky black horizon, and it was clear that they were still miles from anywhere civilised. 

Logan didn’t remember falling back to sleep, but abruptly recalled why he hadn’t meant to. He momentarily panicked, before realising that Kitty was still half-sitting on his lap, apparently unchanged. Her head was rested in the crook of his neck, her eyes were closed, and she had a peaceful expression on her face. 

It seemed a shame to wake her, and the longer she remained oblivious to the truck driver’s perverse intentions, the better off she’d be. 

However, a discomfort in Logan’s bladder informed him that this pit stop was fortunately well timed, aside from the fact that he had a teenage girl propped up to sleep against him. 

He slowly reached around her to unbuckle the seatbelt and turned to stand up, all the while moving her gently into a comfortable position. She didn’t seem to stir, so he quietly opened the door and stepped out into the cold dark night. 

The rain had reduced to occasional light droplets and the atmosphere had a damp smell to it. Not far from the truck was a small cluster of trees and Logan stiffly walked up to them. 

He unzipped his jeans and proceeded to relieve himself, but the sound of a door slamming shut caused him to jump. He hastily twisted his upper body to check the truck. The cabin was flooded with light, with Pete sitting once more in the driver’s seat. 

“Won’t be a minute,” Logan called out, struggling to keep his tone casual. A discomforted feeling grew in his gut and he urged his body to work quicker. He didn’t like the idea of Kitty being alone with that man for any length of time. 

The growl of an engine coming to life made his blood run cold. The truck’s headlights flicked on, and he watched in horror as it started to move away. 

“Shit,” he hissed, zipping his jeans back up. 

The truck roared, straining in its gears. Pete was pushing it as hard as he could. 

“Hey!” Logan shouted, running from the trees to catch it up. 

The truck accelerated, quickly putting distance between them. 

Logan’s eyes flared wide with panic. If it got to full speed before he could reach it, Kitty would be long gone. And if that happened, he’d never forgive himself. 

“HEEEY!” He roared and threw every ounce of strength he had left into his legs. 

He had to catch the truck. There was nothing else – nothing more important – he had to get her back. 


	10. It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn

 

Kitty became vaguely aware of a whining, straining engine. At first she didn’t remember why she could even hear the noise, or why her damp clothes were clammily pressed against her skin. But the rumbling vibrations under her feet sparked some synapses and it all came back to her. 

She recalled drifting off whilst squashed into a seat with Logan, and now there was a perplexing absence of warm leather against her cheek. In fact, she became very aware of the great expanse of nothingness surrounding her. 

Frowning, she opened her eyes and looked about the cabin. It was darker than when she’d fallen asleep, and everything was much harder to make out. She sat up straight to get a better bearing and realised with disturbing clarity that she was definitely alone in the seat. Logan was gone. 

Kitty glanced nervously across at Pete, his eyes were fixed on the road and his expression was impossible to read in the gloom. 

“Where’s Logan?” Kitty asked, doing her best to remain calm, despite the tight, airy sensation in her chest. 

Pete’s gaze flickered over to her and his face formed a sly grin. 

“Don’t worry love, it’s just you and me now,” he crooned. His hand left the wheel to rest on Kitty’s knee. 

Startled, Kitty flinched away from his touch. “Get away!” she shrieked.

Her powers kicked in and his hand fell through to the seat. Then everything went black. Her ears filled with the sound of rushing air. Something hit her hard in the back. She cried out in pain and struggled to adjust herself. But before she could gain control of her powers, a harsh blow struck her forehead. Her consciousness disappeared in a flash of white.

 

* * *

 

 

Logan’s heart pounded. His legs jolted with shock as his feet struck the tarmac. His chest felt like it was being pulled tight in a steel grip, and his arms felt like they might fling off with the speed he was pumping them, but he was gaining on the truck. 

He reached the tarpaulin side of the trailer and slammed his fist against it. 

“Stop this damn truck!” he roared. 

His demands were in vain, and it only seemed to go faster. It started to pull away from him and he let out a howl of frustration. 

Releasing his claws, Logan flung his left arm up and sank it deep into the tarpaulin. The sudden increase in speed lifted him off his feet and he had to launch forward and stab the thick material with his right claws just to stay attached. 

He could feel the material tear under his sharp blades. The rushing air that filled his ears was dragging him backwards. He would have to move quickly if he wanted to stay on the truck. 

With a feral cry, he heaved himself forward and sunk his left claws back into the tarpaulin. He repeated the motion with the right, and again with the left. Slowly, he made progress along the side of the truck, until his claws found metal. 

He flung himself across the passenger window, claws sinking deep into the doorframe. Inside, the truck driver nearly jumped clean out of his skin. But then both of their eyes fell on the passenger seat and Logan’s heart fell to his stomach. It was empty. 

Pete swerved the truck in a desperate attempt to throw Logan off. He tensed his body and held on tight, turning his head against the wind that threatened to pull him off. The action afforded him a glance down the road behind, and a momentary glimpse of a lifeless body in the middle of it. His heart almost stopped at the sight. 

It could only be Kitty. She must have phased through the truck, and it didn’t seem to have ended well. 

He had to get to her quick and there was only one way of doing so. 

Eyes screwing shut, Logan sheathed his claws. He slammed against the side of the truck and instinctively curled into a ball. He hit the road with an explosion of pain. His eyes snapped open with the shock. He caught glimpses of sky and dirt; the twinkle of stars mixed with bright flashes of white-hot pain as he rolled to a stop.   

He lay very still for a moment, his eyes squeezing tightly as he waited for some of the agony to subside. Cuts and grazes tingled as the skin reformed and stitched itself back together. 

Slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, leaning heavily on his right arm. He tried to move his left arm so that he could brace himself and stand up, but it didn’t respond to his commands. He glanced down at it and winced; the appendage was hanging awkwardly in front of him, with the hand bent backwards against the wet tarmac. Immediately he recognised the problem as a dislocated shoulder – he’d been in enough scrapes to know what one looked like. He also knew just how much they hurt to relocate. 

Still, there was no time to be precious about it. He grabbed a hold of his upper left arm, and gently moved it around, searching for the shoulder’s socket. The motion caused pain to blossom in his shoulder, but he deliberately ignored it. 

Once he was sure he’d found the right position, Logan forced the limb home. He screamed at the dizzying agony, and was quick to force deep, haggard breaths out through his teeth. His brain felt ready to explode with the pain. 

He took a moment to refocus his vision, consciously picking out the grains of dirt on the road beneath him. When he felt just about ready to move, he twisted around to search the surrounding area for his companion. She was still lying motionless, on her side, with limbs splayed out in a pattern that suggested she’d rolled for quite a distance before stopping. 

Logan’s stomach knotted in trepidation. It definitely couldn’t be good news if she hadn’t moved yet. She must have suffered worse blows than he had, and without a healing factor, she wasn’t going to be getting up any time soon. 

Laboriously, Logan stood up. There were still a few twinges throughout his body. It felt like something might have ruptured in his abdomen. But whatever the problem was, it was rapidly fixing itself. He started shakily towards his fallen companion. 

On the horizon he could see two blinking lights, and at first their significance didn’t register. However, they rapidly increased in their intensity, getting both larger and brighter. It became apparent that some sort of vehicle was fast approaching, and Kitty was lying across both lanes. 

“Fuck,” Logan hissed. He broke into a sprint. 

The lights were close enough to see their beams on the road. 

“Kitty!” he yelled. “You’ve got to move!” 

She didn’t stir. 

Logan started to panic. “Get up!” he cried desperately, running harder still. 

Still nothing. 

He could see the silhouette of a car; it was seconds away from Kitty’s body. But he was closer. He skidded around her, putting himself between her and the car. A quick scan up and down her body allowed him to identify the cause of unconsciousness. There was a dark red, oozing wound on her forehead. It didn’t look good, but it didn’t look fatal - not nearly as fatal as a collision with a car going at eighty miles per hour. 

He knew he shouldn’t move her, but even if he shielded her from the car, he couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t kill her. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he swiftly slipped his hands underneath her and stood up as smoothly as he could. 

A car horn wailed as he dashed off the road. He felt a rush of air along his back that whipped his hair across in its wake. His eyes followed the car’s path as it swerved onto the other side of the road, before adjusting itself and departing into the distance with a final angry burst on the horn. 

He tried hard not to think about how close they had been to being splattered on the car’s windscreen, or rendered as bloody pulps on the road. Instead, he turned his attention to the broken girl in his arms. Her face looked pale and blue in contrast to the deep red gash on her forehead. A trail of blood trickled down into her hairline, and there was a vicious looking graze on her opposite cheek. Loose hairs had been pulled out of her ponytail and were strewn across her battered face. 

Logan was struck by how fragile she looked and felt a crippling surge of guilt. 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

If it hadn’t been for him, they wouldn’t have even got on that truck. He’d known the driver was a creep, yet still he’d done nothing about it. He should have woken Kitty up at the petrol station. They should have left then. This never should have happened. 

He felt his limbs go weak and had to willfully force himself to keep a tight hold of Kitty. Her body shifted in his arms. He initially assumed that he was losing grip, but then her eyes slowly squinted open. 

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Mm, what happened?” Kitty croaked. 

“You fell out of a truck,” Logan replied softly, unable to keep his voice from breaking. 

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice his embarrassing swell of relief. Her eyes were too busy blinking away the confusion. 

“Oh, yeah,” she mumbled. “I hit some things on the way out.” 

Logan considered the statement a bit too tame to describe the condition she was in, but he held his tongue, not wanting to make her think the situation was any worse than it was. He just silently thanked the heavens that by moving her he hadn’t aggravated a spinal injury that could have killed or paralysed her. 

With that in mind, he decided it was probably best to see just how much damage had been done.   

“Do you think you can stand?” he asked. 

Kitty took a moment to consider, before replying shakily, “Maybe.” 

Gently, Logan eased her down, lowering her feet first. She gingerly put weight on them, starting with the right and finishing with the left. A harsh hiss escaped her lips and caused Logan to flinch. She cried out in pain and he hastily wrapped his arm under her shoulders, providing her with enough support to keep her left foot hovering just above the ground. 

“I think I’ve broken my ankle,” Kitty whimpered. 

Logan mentally cursed himself; Kitty’s predicament was all his fault. However, he knew there was no time for self-admonishment. He had to act. 

“Alright, put your weight on me. We’ve got to get away from this road,” he said. 

The likelihood of the truck driver coming back and looking for them was incredibly slim, however, Logan didn’t feel up to another near-death experience on the road. They were much better off alone until he could assess just how bad the situation was. 

Kitty wrapped her arm across his shoulders, her fingers digging deeply into his leather jacket. He took a cautionary first step and she hobbled with him. The progress was slow, but they began to move away from the road and onto the low grassy bank next to it. Not far away a line of bare trees formed a barrier between the man-made road and raw nature. 

There were only a few stars in the sky, which twinkled through gaps in the dispersing clouds, and the moon was lost in a hazy glow behind them, so there was very little light to see by. Logan could just make out some depth to the trees; they seemed to go on for quite some distance. 

Once over the grass verge, he could see down onto the woodland floor. It was covered in dead leaves and small, shrub-like plants. Not too far away, there also appeared to be some sort of shelter. It was made of crumbling concrete and had a corrugated metal roof, also covered in decaying plant matter. The doorway and windows were left as empty holes into the shelter. Obviously whatever purpose it used to serve had long been forgotten. But for them, it would make the perfect place to hide from the elements. 

Logan glanced sidelong at Kitty. Her expression was distorted by pain; there was no way that she could keep up pace for much longer. 

“You see that shelter?” he asked, pointing with his spare hand. 

Kitty frowned. “Not really.” 

Of course, Logan realised that everything looked considerably darker to Kitty’s eyes, and her head injury probably wasn’t making it any easier. 

“Well it’s not far, we’re gonna walk to it. Think you can manage?” he asked. 

“Sure,” Kitty replied. Her tone lacked the necessary assertion, but they carried on nonetheless. 

Considering the younger mutant’s handicap, they made good progress and were halfway to the shelter before she gasped. “Oh my God, the bags!” 

Logan flinched; he had hoped to save that topic for later. Admittedly, there was a moment, when he was clinging to the truck’s passenger door that he could have broken through and retrieved their bags, but at the time he’d been more concerned about getting back to Kitty. She might not still be alive if he had decided to, and in all honesty, he didn’t care much about their contents; they were hardly instrumental to their survival. But all the same, it was his fault that they’d lost them in the first place. 

“They’re gone,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.” 

Kitty looked stunned by his apology, but quickly changed her expression to one of indignation. “Don’t be, it’s that creep that’s gone off with them. He’s the one that should be sorry.” 

Logan tried to pull his mouth into a wry smile, but he just didn’t have it in him. The guilt was beginning to circle around him, viciously waiting to pick him off. He couldn’t help it; he had to admit to what he’d done. 

“I knew though,” he said quietly. “I knew he was going to pull something like this, but I let him because I wanted us to get as far as possible.” 

He didn’t dare look at Kitty, but when she suddenly stopped walking, he had to meet her gaze. Her eyes were filled with confusion and mistrust. He tried his best to keep an honest and flat expression, but he couldn’t keep the remorse from trickling through. 

“You _let_ him?” Kitty frowned, a dangerous tone slipping into her voice. As the realisation sank in she grew more and more livid. “YOU –” She caught herself and took to fuming silently. Eventually, when she’d caught a hold of her rage, she muttered, “It doesn’t matter.” 

Logan’s brow knitted together in confusion. “How could it not?” 

He’d expected her to tear him to pieces. She was meant to rant and rave at him and he was just meant to take it. That was what he deserved. 

“I messed up, you messed up. Forget it, we’re square,” Kitty said, loud and sharp. 

“But – you – I – I could have prevented this,” Logan garbled desperately. 

“Yeah, you should have known better – just like I should’ve,” Kitty said sourly. 

Logan stared at her strangely. He couldn’t get his head around how ready she was to forgive him. If he were in her situation, he would have completely lost it, and yet she remained composed. Yes, she was still angry. Yes, she looked like she wanted to rip his eyes out. But she was dealing with the situation rationally. 

That wasn’t the way a child was supposed to act, but then again, he supposed he should really stop thinking about her in such a way. The girl had matured beyond his expectations. 

Rendered mute, Logan dropped his gaze to the ground and slowly they continued walking. The feelings of guilt didn’t subside, and he started to suspect that Kitty forgiving him was actually a much crueler thing to do. It denied him catharsis and allowed the remorse to sink its teeth deep into his conscience. 

When they arrived at the shelter, he was relieved to turn his focus to other things. Inside, the concrete floor was half-covered with rusty-coloured skeletal leaves that had been swept in by the wind, but it was dry and only faintly smelt of fox piss. The floor-space could just about sleep two fully grown men, so they would have no problem. It just wouldn’t be overly comfortable. 

Logan led Kitty to the back left corner, pressing his arm hard against the concrete wall so that she could brace herself against it as much as possible. 

“OK, go down slowly,” he said. He gradually dropped into a squat position, his leather jacket scratching noisily down the gritty wall as Kitty’s feet skidded forward. She ended up sitting with her legs stretched out and her back against the wall. 

Logan slipped his arm out from behind her, but kept his position. Now, it was time to fix the situation as best he could. 

“You got any tissues?” he asked. 

Kitty didn’t question him. Instead her hands delved into her coat and pulled out a small plastic pack of half-used pocket tissues. She handed it to him and he received it readily, tearing the pack open and pulling one out. He opened it out flat and, summoning what little saliva he could, spat on it a couple of times, before pressing it to the wound on Kitty’s forehead. 

“Eww, gross,” she grimaced, recoiling slightly. 

“The spit makes it stronger,” Logan said brusquely. “A dry tissue would just stick to the wound, and you don’t want that.” 

“Yeah, but you could’ve asked _me_ to spit on it,” Kitty grumbled in distaste. 

Choosing to ignore her trivial complaint, Logan grunted, “Hold that there and apply pressure.” 

She did as she was told, and Logan rested back on his haunches to take the rest of her in. It was impossible to tell whether there were any injuries under her thick beige overcoat, but he could only assume that the clothing had protected her during the fall anyway. 

The next most important thing to assess was whether the blow to her head had done any lasting damage. Thankfully, he’d switched his lighter into his new jeans’ pocket when taking a shower yesterday, and the light caused by the flame would probably be just enough to check for concussion. 

He retrieved it and flicked the starter switch several inches from Kitty’s face. The shelter filled with a warm orange light and dark heavy shadows were cast in its wake. Logan watched with a little relief as Kitty’s pupils constricted in response. 

“How do you feel? Any nausea?” he asked. 

“No, it just hurts,” Kitty grimaced. 

“OK,” Logan said, taking his thumb off the lighter and plunging them back into darkness. “I’m gonna take a look at your ankle,” he continued and moved down to sit at her feet. Gently, he pushed up the leg of her jeans to reveal a pale limb that looked apparently unmarred. However, there was some obvious swelling around the ankle. 

“Can you move it? Try rotating it,” Logan prompted her. 

She did so, moving it jarringly to the left and right, but not making a full circle. A grimace and a hiss announced the conclusion of her effort. 

“OK, it’s not broken,” Logan said. He examined the ankle further with a few soft prods. “Looks like it’s just a sprain. You just need to get some rest. We’ll stay here till daylight and go to the nearest town.” 

“OK,” Kitty replied, nodding vaguely. Her expression looked distant, like she could barely hear him over the roar of pain. Logan looked at her uncertainly. In theory, it was all right for her to sleep – she’d displayed none of the signs for concussion – but he couldn’t help but feel concerned. 

He was no doctor, and if Kitty’s condition got any worse, he didn’t know what he’d do. They were miles from any help, and there were no guarantees that she would be any safer in a hospital. He could only hope to keep her in a relatively positive state, but her clothes were still damp and there was a sharp chill in the air. He couldn’t light a fire in the tiny shelter and all the wood outside would be too wet to get started anyway. His only option was to provide her with his leather jacket, which had held off against the rain quite remarkably. The lining was still dry and the dense material would fight off against the chill. 

So he unzipped the jacket and, bending down, he draped it over her shoulders. 

“Here,” he said, as he tucked it in against the wall so it would stay on her thin frame. 

Ignoring her stunned expression, he lifted the tissue from her forehead to examine the wound underneath. 

The bleeding had stopped and now he could see it a little more clearly, he noted that the cut wasn’t even that deep. She could probably get away without stitches. 

“Don’t you need it?” Kitty frowned, her arms shifting underneath the leather jacket, as if she were trying to wrestle it off her. 

“Not as much as you,” Logan answered matter-of-factly. 

His tone stopped her attempts and she watched him in captivation as he moved to sit in the opposite corner of the shelter. 

There, he could feel a light breeze come in through the open doorway and it danced across his bare skin, setting the hair on his forearms on end. His gaze flickered back to Kitty, as he wondered just why she was staring at him so intently. When he realised her eyes were fixed on his abdomen, it all made sense. 

He was still wearing the wife-beater she’d bought him, and under the leather jacket it had remained dry, so his blood had formed a thick crust around the white material. It looked black in the darkness; the contrast making it all the more striking. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to distract her attention. “You should get some sleep.” 

Kitty didn’t seem convinced, but she did avert her gaze and shuffle slightly to get more comfortable. 

Logan purposefully turned his attention out of the doorway to the surrounding woodland. Where he had chosen to sit there was a perfect vantage point to keep an eye out for potential trouble. He had no intention of going to sleep; he didn’t dare to with Kitty in the state that she was. Instead, he divided his attention between her and the world outside their tiny shelter. 

Eventually, Kitty closed her eyes and he familiarised himself with the sound of her soft breathing. The rhythm almost soothed him, but the churning sensation of guilt in his gut didn’t relent. In the quiet darkness it was all he had to think about. His mind tormented him with flashing mental images of what could have happened had Kitty not escaped the truck driver; they made his blood burn and his claws itch. 

He’d done his best to resist any feeling of involvement in the girl ever since she’d turned up. Her presence was a constant reminder of the man he’d once been; a life that he wanted to forget. But he couldn’t pretend that she didn’t mean something to him. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t miss the life he used to have: guiding the students, toughening them up to face the world. Still, he couldn’t go back to that, not being the man he was. 

Kitty was stuck with him and the least he could do was look after her. He owed her that much, at least. 


	11. Two Against the World

 

The night dragged on and Kitty’s consciousness danced back and forth. Her body felt like it had been through a blender, and the pain made it very difficult to switch her brain off. Every time she shifted to ease her discomfort, something new protested and she was re-alerted to her surroundings. Her eyelids fluttered open and on several occasions the dark little concrete box appeared to be somewhere else entirely. At one point she thought she was in her parent’s basement, having only just discovered her powers and was drastically concerned about why their emergence had hurt her so much.

 

So when she blearily opened her eyes to see Logan staring at her in concern she assumed that she had to be dreaming. However, the instance repeated itself so many times throughout the night that she had to eventually accept it as reality. He actually was worried about her and unabashedly so – although it was possible that he wasn’t even aware that she could see him watching her, as her eyes only ever opened by a crack.  

 

She found his behaviour most perplexing; he had never struck her as the sort of man to apologise for anything. Even though he had dangled her like a piece of meat in front of that truck driver, he’d shown genuine remorse and his apology had left her shell-shocked.

 

Scott used to say that Logan left the X-Men because he didn’t care about them enough to stay, but Kitty wondered how he would explain the feral mutant’s behaviour tonight. He clearly cared enough to keep watch over her, and he clearly had enough of a conscience to confess about allowing the truck driver to get as close as he did to – to – well, she didn’t really want to think about that. The point was, while Logan could have kept his damn mouth shut, he’d been compelled enough to apologise. That was the mark of a good man – not the man who would callously leave his teammates in the dust – so just where had everything gone wrong? Why had he stayed away and dissolved himself in alcohol, rather than act like the hero he was meant to be?

 

Kitty’s initial desires to transform Logan into the man he once was had taken somewhat of a backbench ever since the shotgun incident, but she was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t going to be an easy task. He had demonstrated tonight that he obviously still had a conscience, so his unwillingness to return to the X-Men had to run deeper than simple neglect. 

 

As it stood, Kitty had no idea what to do with him and she wondered what little she could achieve in her current state anyway. Perhaps they were better off with just trying to survive for now.

 

With that in mind, Kitty cracked open her eyelids. Crisp, early daylight caused her to squint slightly, as she settled her focus on the older mutant. He was still sat in the exact same corner opposite her, his position barely changed, staring fervently out of the shelter’s entrance. The look on his face seemed oddly familiar and rather distinct; it was the expression people wore when they’d been caught looking at someone. Kitty had spent enough time on public transport during her recent exodus to recognise it. 

 

The corners of her mouth pulled up slightly. She wondered how Logan’s expression would change if he knew she had been catching him in the act all night long. 

 

He feigned to notice her stirring and looked back over. “Good, you’re awake. Ready to move?” he asked.

 

“Sure,” Kitty said, somewhat reluctantly. She may have been stiff and uncomfortable in her position, but the idea of walking didn’t fill her with great enthusiasm.

 

Logan braced against the wall to stand up, stretching and flexing his muscles as he did. Kitty’s eyes fell on the dark bloody stain on his abdomen, and she felt a similar pang of guilt to when she had first witnessed it last night. It didn’t matter that he’d healed from the wound in just a few hours, the fact that she’d put him though such pain weighed heavily on her conscience. 

 

She could imagine a piece of how Logan felt for causing her predicament, which was why she was determined to be as cooperative an invalid as possible. 

 

Logan stepped over to her and she lifted up his leather jacket, feeling the warmth it housed disappear almost instantly. He took it from her and swept it over his shoulders, slipping his arms inside and zipping it up to hide the bloodstain.

 

Wordlessly, he bent down and threaded his arms underneath her shoulders. He pulled her up like a rag doll, and she stumbled to gain her footing. However, he was a sturdy support and she soon found a comfortable enough position that didn’t put too much weight on her injured ankle.

 

“How does it feel?” Logan asked, obviously noticing her cautious attempts to prevent any unnecessary pain.

 

The ankle still throbbed furiously, and there were several parts of her that still felt weak and tender – most notably her head. She couldn’t think quick enough to sugarcoat a response, so she said simply, “Painful.”

 

“I can carry you if you like,” Logan offered.

 

Kitty’s gaze flickered upward to study the older mutant, who still had a strong hold under her shoulders, and whose face was alarmingly only several inches from her own. The closeness between them made Kitty feel instantly uncomfortable, and the thought of being carried by the man made her stomach squirm.

 

“No, I’ll be fine,” she replied, hastily dropping her gaze.

 

“OK, well the offer stands. If it gets too much just let me know,” Logan grunted, and he shifted around to her side, keeping only his right arm wrapped around her. His hand was firmly placed under Kitty’s armpit, so that when they moved off he was more or less lifting her every time her left foot should have touched the ground.

 

She marveled silently at how naturally he filled the role of a human crutch; it was as if he’d done it thousands of times before. But then again, she supposed he probably had.

 

They left the shelter and headed back up to the road. Everything was still covered in a heavy layer of moisture, and Kitty’s trainers, which were still damp from the previous day, filled with a fresh, cold sensation.

 

The sky, although no longer emptying on them, was still grey, with threatening dark patches. Kitty thought she was beginning to understand why the British always complained about the weather; it seemed so malevolent here. She could feel tiny droplets of water in the air, and their breath hung in dense white clouds around them.

 

Settling into a comfortable walking rhythm wasn’t easy. Every time Kitty accidentally put too much weight on her left foot a jolt of pain shot through her system. She tried very hard not to let Logan hear her gasps of pain, but every so often he would falter and she became paranoid that he’d insist on carrying her. 

 

Eventually, she relaxed into his grasp and realised it was far better to let him take control of their speed. After that, she was able to turn her mind to other things, and she came to wonder how they ended up in this mess. Aside from the fact that they’d both royally screwed up, one thing still perplexed her; how exactly she had woken up in Logan’s arms by the side of the road.

 

“So last night, where were you when I, you know, fell through a truck?” she said inquisitively.

 

“I was, uh, chasing after it,” Logan replied, sounding slightly awkward. “We’d stopped at a service station and I’d got out to um… stretch my legs, and when I turned around that asshole had started driving off.”

 

“Wow, what a creep,” Kitty said emphatically. If she hadn’t been caught so much by surprise, she liked to think she would have smacked the truck driver hard in the face. In fact, she deeply regretted that she hadn’t.

 

Still, something didn’t quite piece together.

 

“So, if you knew he was gonna pull something like that, why did you leave me alone with him in the first place?” Kitty frowned.

 

“I didn’t,” Logan replied defensively. “He said something about going to get coffee so I thought he’d be a while and –“ Logan sighed exasperatedly, creating a massive cloud of vapour. “He pulled a fast one on me,” he finished irritably, and Kitty could tell it clearly bothered him that he’d been outwitted. She would have felt sympathetic, but something about his tone was oddly satisfying, like it comforted her to know that there was something at least slightly vulnerable about the stony man.

 

Or perhaps his dented ego was exactly what she needed to feel better about her own recent failures. Either way, she found herself in a slightly better mood and she replied brightly, “Well, we can’t always be on top of our game.”

 

Unsurprisingly, Logan scowled. “I should’ve been,” he grumbled. “If he’d hurt you, if he’d done _anything_ to you, I would’ve –“ his grip under her arm tightened, his fingers curling into the fabric of her coat. Kitty blinked at him in surprise and he managed to catch himself. “Well, it doesn’t matter cuz you’re OK now. Or, you will be.” His hand jarringly unclenched and returned to its original supporting posture. He stared at the ground and muttered quietly, “I promise.”

 

His display of intense emotion rendered Kitty momentarily speechless. It wasn’t even like he was just angry; there was an honest sincerity underneath the rage that made her actually believe he would rip the truck driver to shreds on her behalf. Undoubtedly the sentiment was primitive, but all the same she found it quite touching.

 

“I believe you,” she smiled.

 

Logan stopped suddenly, and Kitty had to hop about a bit to regain her balance. At first, she thought of saying something about him responding a little too dramatically, but then she noticed a car dive from her peripheral vision onto the hard shoulder in front of them.

 

The silver hatchback pulled to a stop and a woman stepped out of the driver’s door. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, with long wavy highlighted hair and delicate wrinkles around her eyes. She was dressed in smart office attire, so she was obviously on her way to work.

 

“Are you OK?” she called out, concern etching her features. “Do you need a lift?”

 

Logan looked across at Kitty in consideration and then replied, “Uh, yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

 

He steadied Kitty again and started their pace back up.

 

“Here, let me get the door,” the woman said, rushing around the car to open the rear left door.

 

Kitty watched her with some scrutiny. From her experiences so far, very few people had been willing to bend over backwards to help her. Although the woman’s concern seemed genuine, Kitty couldn’t shake the feeling of suspicion.

 

“What did you do?” the altruistic woman asked.

 

Feeling notably under the spotlight, Kitty abruptly pulled a grateful expression. “Oh, I tripped and sprained my ankle,” she lied. 

 

“Oh dear,” the woman said sympathetically.

 

Logan lowered Kitty into the car and she carefully lifted her left leg in afterwards. As he straightened up, Logan fixed her with a reassuring look and her feelings of suspicion abated slightly. She realised that the situation was hardly too much for her companion to handle; there was nothing to worry about.  

 

“I’m going to Maryport, is that OK for you?” the woman asked as Logan shut the side door.

 

“It would be great, thanks,” Logan replied, and Kitty watched in beguiled amusement as he attempted to pull a grin.

 

For whatever reason, he wasn’t bothering to put on the grand acting mask from yesterday. Maybe he didn’t think it was needed this time around, or maybe the thought of using it stirred up too many negative emotions. Either way, Kitty hoped that he could handle the awkward social situation without it. He never had been too good with new people.

 

The slamming of two doors snapped Kitty from her reverie, and she noticed that Logan had elected to sit in the seat in front of her. She wondered what was wrong with the empty space to her right, but the second she turned her head she realised it wasn’t all that empty.

 

Sat in a car seat was a baby that could be no older than one year. It was dressed in a tiny dark blue sweater and soft tufts of blonde hair stuck out in different directions from a delicate looking scalp. Kitty assumed the baby was a boy, but only the colour of his clothes gave it away. He stared at her with big round eyes and his plump red lips hung ever so slightly apart in wonderment, as if she was a bizarre and potentially threatening creature.

 

“Hi,” Kitty said, smiling softly in a fruitless attempt to break the ice.

 

The baby didn’t change his expression, but Kitty caught the attention of the woman in the driver’s seat, who smiled into the rear mirror. “Oh, that’s Martin. And I’m Florence,” she said amicably.

 

“Logan and Kitty. Thanks for picking us up,” Logan said, sounding only slightly awkward.

 

“You’re welcome,” Florence smiled and she turned the key in the ignition and pulled back onto the road.

 

After a few minutes of driving, the baby Martin seemed to accept that Kitty was just another bigger human than himself and turned his attention to other things.

 

Slowly, Florence managed to draw something that resembled a conversation out of Logan. Kitty decided not to get involved, mostly because the woman’s bright and cheerful disposition irritated her, but also because she was much happier taking a moment to revel in the comfort of a padded seat in a heated car.

 

Logan came up with a convenient cover story about them being avid hikers, who had come over from the United States to sample the British countryside. However, they had started out a bit too early in the morning and Kitty hadn’t seen the branch that she had supposedly tripped on. Florence seemed to buy it; in fact, she started to talk quite animatedly about the topic of hiking, even going as far as to recommend their next destinations.

 

As far as Kitty could tell, Florence didn’t seem to be a hiking enthusiast, so her interest seemed a bit peculiar. Or at least, it did until she stumbled into the topic of marital status. How she had gone from sunsets on the top of hills to mentioning she was a single mother had clearly slipped Logan by, but Kitty picked up on the connection.

 

After that, she started to become aware of all the little nuances in Florence’s behaviour, from the constant smiling and soft laughter, to the occasional brushing back of her hair and the furtive glances in Logan’s direction, which Kitty could see in the rear mirror’s reflection. It was pretty obvious that Florence fancied Logan, although Kitty found herself checking and rechecking just to make sure.

 

It wasn’t because she found it hard to believe that anyone would have amorous feelings for the older mutant. Kitty had just grown up getting used to the idea that he would never show any romantic inclinations to anybody. It just wasn’t in his nature.

 

She spent the rest of the car journey silently ridiculing their driver for her continued attempts to flirt with Logan. Florence obviously took his quiet, short responses for shyness, rather than a polite attempt to exit the conversation, and continued to coax more out of him.

 

By the time they reached Maryport, Kitty could tell Logan was relieved to get out of the car. He had convinced Florence to just drop them in the town centre, instead of the hospital or the supposed hotel they were staying in. She seemed baffled by his insistence, but one benefit to her smitten behaviour was that she caved almost right away.

 

They got out by a small green, hemmed with rows of shops in old looking buildings. There were a few trees lining the green, which was criss-crossed by paths, dotted with benches, all of which stood empty. The surrounding area was near deserted; obviously it was still very early in the morning.

 

Florence drove off slowly, making sure to see their returning wave before rejoining the sparse traffic.

 

Kitty failed to suppress a smirk once the silver hatchback was out of sight.

 

“She so fancied you,” she said teasingly.

 

Logan, who had reinstated his role as her human crutch, had to pull away a little to frown at her directly. “What?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

 

Kitty’s smirk widened into a grin. She knew Florence’s flirting had fallen on Logan the way that water crashes against the proverbial rocks. The fact that her attempts had failed so miserably was really quite amusing.

 

“’Oh, look at me gabbering on, you don’t want to hear all this, but I’m going to carry on anyway because I think you’re so _dreamy_ ,’” Kitty said, doing her best to imitate a breathy English accent.

 

Logan wasn’t amused by her joking tone and responded with a scornful look.

 

“She digged you,” Kitty explained, returning to her normal tone of voice.

 

“Whatever,” Logan groaned, pushing forward to start up their uneven pace once more. “You hungry?”

 

Kitty could tell he was trying to change the topic, but that didn’t stop her stomach from growling in response. After all, it had been a whole day since she’d had anything to eat and that had only been two apple turnovers.

 

“Yeah,” she admitted.

 

They came up to a bench sprinkled with lichen. The wooden slats were split with age but for all intensive purposes, it was still fully functional. Logan lowered Kitty onto it, ensuring she was comfortably upright before standing straight.

 

“Then stay here, I’m going to get us some food,” he said.

 

Kitty frowned. “But how-“

 

“I won’t be long,” Logan cut her off and headed down the path.

 

Kitty contemplated calling after him, but then surely he didn’t need reminding that they were penniless. Evidently, he had other plans of how to acquire their breakfast, and she wasn’t convinced that she wanted to know what they were. Instead, she wrapped her coat in tightly to try and maintain the warmth she’d accumulated from the car journey. She expected it would be a long time before she’d feel the luxury of heating again, and she wanted to make the most of it.

 

*** *** *** *** ***

 

Twenty minutes later, her nose was bright red with the cold. As were her fingers, despite being jammed firmly in her pockets.

 

Logan appeared on the other side of the green and cut across it to her. In his hand was a white plastic bag, bulging with mystery contents. He sat down next to her and placed the bag between them, pulling out a large plastic carton of milk. He opened it and threw his head back to drink copious amounts of the white liquid. Kitty watched him curiously, noticing the way his Adam’s apple bobbed back and forth with every gulp.

 

He was oblivious to her attention and lowered the carton with a satisfied gasp, thrusting it in her direction.

 

“Here,” he grunted.

 

Kitty frowned at it. There were still little beads of condensation on the outside of the coarse plastic, meaning that wherever he had got it from it wasn’t long out of the fridge. She found his casual manner disconcerting and decided that perhaps she was slightly concerned as to how he’d so easily managed to procure their breakfast.

 

“How did you get this?” she asked suspiciously, looking across at him.

 

“I stole it,” Logan replied flatly, shaking the carton a little more forcefully under her nose.

 

Irritated by the action, Kitty took it from his grasp, but didn’t lose her focus, “You what?” she hissed.

 

“No one saw me,” Logan grumbled defensively.

 

“That’s not the point!” Kitty said, struggling to keep her tone low. 

 

“Do you want to starve?” Logan retorted.

 

“No, but –”

 

“Someone will get home and realise they have one less bag of shopping, it’s not the end of the world,” Logan reasoned contemptuously. 

 

Kitty’s eyes narrowed at him. She knew that she could hardly expect him to have found food by more honourable means, but that didn’t mean she felt any less criminal for holding a stolen, half-used carton of milk.

 

Had she been rendered homeless and penniless alone, she liked to think that she would have been pushed closer to the edge of desperation before stealing food. Logan seemed just a little too quick to turn to criminal means; it left her feeling uncomfortable.

 

“So this is what we do now,” she said, a little sourly. “We sleep in concrete shelters that stink of God-knows-what and steal other people’s food. We’re better than this.”

 

“Yeah, and we’ll act like it when they _treat_ us better,” Logan snarled.

 

He dug into the bag and pulled out a loaf of sliced bread wrapped in a plastic bag. His fingers fumbled with the tie at the top, evidently losing their dexterity in his attempt to suppress a growing temper.

 

Kitty was struck by the futility of his effort, and it caused her to reflect on their chances for survival. They were just two mutants in a world full of people that despised and feared them, with no means of changing anything for the better. What hope did they have?

 

“We could still find the X-Men,” Kitty volunteered timidly, quite aware of the response last time she brought up the topic.

 

Logan’s fingers froze and his jaw twitched. “No,” he said forcefully, refusing to meet her gaze.

 

Kitty flinched. Just as she had expected, nothing had changed. Still, she had to at least try and convince him.

 

“Why not?” she asked earnestly. “We have nothing left to lose.”

 

“It’s not worth it,” Logan stressed.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Trust me, it’s just not.”

 

There was a dark look on his face and enough finality in his tone to stop Kitty’s argument dead. Although she would have liked to probe further, Logan’s blunt responses made it clear that the topic made him uncomfortable.

 

He heaved a deep sigh and said, “There’s a homeless shelter on the other side of town. We’ll eat and then go there; they might be able to take a look at your leg. But remember, we’re keeping a low profile, so don’t tell them any more than you have to.”

 

Kitty responded with a slight nod, taking note of the fact that her good mood had lasted for all of a couple hours. It had now been thoroughly dissipated and replaced with the familiar sensation of hopelessness.

 

Logan silently accepted her defeat and she wondered if he took any pleasure in making her feel so miserable; he seemed to have an uncanny knack for it. But his behavior gave nothing away, and he began to autonomously make sandwiches out of the bread and some sliced ham which also had the great fortune of being in the same bag as the rest of their ill-acquired breakfast.

 

Kitty took his offerings in sullen silence, unable to quiet the traitorous rumblings in her stomach. However, the meal didn’t sit well and she was left feeling quite sick by the time they arrived at the homeless shelter.

 

There was virtually no one there aside from a few members of staff who kindly explained that most of their unfortunate patrons didn’t turn up until they needed somewhere to stay for the night.

 

Still, on the sight of Kitty’s beaten up state, they welcomed them in and quickly contacted the resident doctor to take a look at her.

 

Kitty was led into a room to wait alone and was made to sit on a clinical bed covered in a paper sheet. The doctor was a woman who asked blessedly few questions, apparently aware that the homeless were a kind of people very reluctant to describe how they became the way they were.

 

She diagnosed Kitty’s ankle as a strain and provided her with a ribbed restraint, but suggested that she went to the hospital to get it x-rayed, just in case. She also put a couple of dissolvable stitches in her forehead and suggested Kitty had a wash or took a shower if she felt up to it, which the young mutant struggled not to take offense to.

 

However, after being directed to the women’s showers, Kitty was startled by her appearance in one of the mirrors. Her face looked pallid and the cut on her forehead looked dark and angry, the skin around it slightly puckered by the stitches. Her hair had fallen nearly completely out of its ponytail and her beige coat was covered in dirty marks and even some smudges of blood.

 

Feeling uncertain about taking a shower with a weakened ankle, Kitty made do with splashing herself with water and rubbing soap over as much skin she could get to without risking the incredible embarrassment of someone strolling into the room to see her leaning over the sink in a state of undress. 

 

After that, she was offered a change of clothes, but upon looking at the available selection, Kitty decided she could make do with her own for a little longer. It wasn’t like she’d been wearing her current outfit for that long, and aside from the coat it was all still in pretty good condition.

 

Finally she was shown into a hall filled wall to wall with camp beds. Logan was sat alone in the sea of stretched green canvas. His hair looked freshly washed and his leather jacket hung open to reveal a baggy black t-shirt. The jeans Kitty had bought him were also discarded in favour of a pale loose-fitting pair that was quite clearly being held up by a plain black leather belt.

 

She felt a pang of disappointment for the short life of her carefully selected outfit. Aside from the jacket, Logan looked like he’d raided the local charity shop to dress himself. It was like he was back at square one, only this time Kitty was stuck with him.

 

One of the staff members provided her with a sleeping bag and she limped slowly across the hall to join her partner in destitution.

 

They didn’t say a word to each other and Kitty took to lying down and listening as the centre’s workers went about their preparations for the evening rush.

 

Eventually more of the homeless trickled into the hall and Kitty did her best to ignore their movements. She wanted to pretend she was anywhere other than here, rolling over and accepting fate. She wished she was with the X-Men; the people who cared about her. She wished for the old days when mutants were unexposed and life was simpler, but she knew those dreams were in vain and slowly allowed her attention to drift to the busying hall around them.

 

Most notable was the sound of footsteps going back and forth. There were only very hushed murmurs of conversation from various corners of the hall. That was until some roguish footsteps loudly announced themselves at the foot of her bed.

 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” A voice exclaimed. “Logan! I’m surprised you dared to show _your_ face around here again.”


	12. The Uncomfortable Truth

Logan’s head snapped up. His instincts were screaming at him to pull out his claws and be ready for a fight. There were, after all, very few people who knew his name that he hadn’t upset. But the instinct was quieted slightly when he saw a familiar man standing at the foot of his and Kitty’s camp beds.

 

The man had a scraggly ginger beard, unkempt hair and was drowned in an oversized green parka jacket that was fraying at the cuffs. His weathered face appeared to place him somewhere in his late forties. Logan, however, knew him to actually be far younger. He also knew the man’s name.

 

“Rufus,” he growled.

 

The man grinned at him foolishly. “What are you doing back here old friend?” he asked.

 

Logan gritted his teeth; it was stretching the truth to suggest that he and this man were friends, and he certainly wasn’t about to divulge anything to him. “It’s a long story,” he said gruffly, wishing in no small part that Rufus would take that as cue to leave.

 

All it did was make him turn his gaze to Kitty for further conversational stimulant. The younger mutant was sat up, curiously studying the stranger who claimed to be Logan’s friend. Rufus grinned at her and turned back to the feral mutant. “You’ve made a lady friend, I see. Colour me impressed,” he said, sounding genuinely surprised.

 

Logan suppressed a growl, but fixed Rufus with a dark look. He was getting the increasingly sinking feeling that this conversation would be neither short nor painless.

 

Rufus either pointedly ignored Logan’s glare or remained completely oblivious to it as he extended a grubby hand over Kitty’s bed. “My name is Rufus,” he said.

 

Kitty stared at the hand uncertainly, before gingerly stretching out to shake it. “Ah, um, Kitty,” she replied hesitantly. “How do you two know each other?”

 

“Ah, well, Logan here used to work at the same factory as me down in Whitehaven, only he had the foresight to leave ‘fore the whole thing went bust,” Rufus explained chattily.

 

Logan could feel Kitty’s gaze hot on his face but he didn’t grace her with eye contact. No doubt she was searching for some sort of confirmation, however, as far as Logan was concerned, the less she knew about the last two years of his life, the better.

 

Rufus sat down on the opposite end of Kitty’s bed and leant across to her in a conspiring manner. “Funniest thing though,” he said in a low voice. “This tiny stocky man turns up and asks for a job. No recollection of what he’d done before or even where he’d been. Amnesia or something like that, right?”

 

The question hit Logan like a blow to the stomach and Kitty’s gaze intensified to searing levels. He should have known better than to trust this man around Kitty; he had a dangerous tendency to spurt out the truth at the most inconvenient moments. 

 

When Logan had asked the factory in Whitehaven for a job, everything that had happened at the Institute still felt a little raw and it was much easier for him to start with a clean slate. Faking amnesia had seemed like the best idea at the time, but Logan knew Kitty wouldn’t see it the same way; she would see it as complete disreguard for the life he left behind. However, he could hardly explain his decisions to her with Rufus there, so he cast a sidelong glance away from them both and muttered, “Something like that.”

 

Entirely unaware of the grave he was digging for Logan, Rufus carried on with his story. “Anyways, me and the guys always used to go out for a drink – or several – after work and we string him along this one time… and you have never _seen_ someone put them away like this guy does. Seriously, he drank us _all_ under the table.”

 

Logan chanced a flicker of his gaze to gage Kitty’s temperament and immediately regretted doing so. She was doing her best to maintain a poker face in front of their company, but her eyes gave everything away and she definitely wasn’t impressed with Rufus’ story so far.

 

“So ‘e became a regular,” the ignorant man continued. “Even let ‘im in on our card nights. And, well…”

 

Warning bells sounded in Logan’s head, he could see where Rufus was taking the conversation and it wouldn’t end well. “I don’t think she needs to know that story,” He said in a desperate attempt to censor the man.

 

“Oh why not? It’s a corker!” Rufus said enthusiastically.

 

“No, it’s not,” Logan warned.

 

“Sounds interesting,” Kitty said, capturing his attention. She took the opportunity to fix him with a challenging stare; it was pretty obvious that she was determined to hear the story, one way or another.

 

“See, she wants to hear it. Stop being such a sour puss,” Rufus said playfully.

 

Logan gave him a lethal look. The damn fool didn’t even know the damage he was doing. But then again, there wasn’t much Logan could do short of physically forcing Rufus to hold his tongue, and he expected that was a sure way to get himself kicked out of the shelter. Then he would hardly be looking after Kitty the way he promised. All he could hope was that the younger mutant would still want to be around him after hearing Rufus’ account.

 

He looked away morosely and allowed the tale to unfold.

 

“I’ll tell the abridged version,” Rufus said, as if his concession would save Logan any more trouble.

 

“We was playing cards this one night and Logan here was absolutely off ‘is tits, he’d run down all ‘is money and bet ‘is Harley Davidson on the round.”  The scraggly man paused to make sure his audience was rapt with attention, but Logan kept his gaze fixed on the end of his camp bed; he didn’t dare look back up at Kitty.  

 

“Well,” Rufus continued, apparently satisfied. “By the power of divine skill, I won it and we went out back so’s he could hand it over. But then – ah – young miss, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are you likewise inclined as our short hairy friend here?”

 

To this, Logan did look up. His eyes were rapidly drawn to the slight pinch between Kitty’s eyebrows.

 

Rufus also appeared to notice her confusion, so elaborated, “Can you do things normal people say shouldn’t be possible?” He spoke in a low whisper and Logan counted himself lucky that his old colleague at least had the common sense to keep mutant matters quiet.

 

Kitty eventually caught his meaning. “Oh, yeah,” she replied.

 

Rufus beamed in satisfaction. “Well then, I can tell the next part of the story.”

 

Logan winced. This was the bit he was worried about.

 

“So, we’re at the bike, Logan’s about to pass over the keys and then he tries to sock me!” Rufus craftily inflected his voice with surprise. It was pretty obvious that he fancied himself a talented narrator.

 

“Only it don’t work. Y’see, my skin’s just like rubber and he bounced right off. Then he got mad and pulled out ‘is claws.

 

“I dunno what they’re made of, ‘cause before that night, nothing’s cut through my skin, not since I turned fourteen.”

 

Slowly, Rufus lifted up a dark green jumper to reveal three silver knotted scars, neatly formed in a row. Logan found that he could only stare at them for a split second before having to focus on the wooden tiled floor. The guilt that surged through him made his stomach ache in discomfort.

 

“He sobered up in a snap – poor soul never _meant_ to do it y’see – he whisked me off to hospital and paid a doctor good money to keep my identity hush-hush.

 

“When I woke up I found out he’d left me the bike an’ plain disappeared. Not heard from him since – until now – so what _have_ you been up to?” Rufus shifted his position to better face Logan, however, the feral mutant didn’t feel up to having an audience. He would have much preferred that the ground swallowed him up.

 

The event Rufus described was something he had desperately been trying to forget, almost as much as every memory he had of life at the Xavier Institute. In truth, he had left Whitehaven with virtually no money to his name, no independent source of transport and a deep sense of shame in his gut. Rufus was right; Logan hadn’t meant to stab him, and the fact that he had preyed heavily on his conscience.

 

After that, he’d fallen to drinking harder than ever and didn’t even realise he was in London until he woke up one morning in Trafalgar Square. By that point he didn’t see much point in changing location. He picked a reasonably sensible residence and rotted in it for months before Kitty turned up. But this was something he knew he would never tell anyone; the words were just too difficult to form. He instead answered Rufus’ question with a sullen one-word answer: “Stuff.”

 

“Ha, you never did like talking about yerself. What about meetin’ this remarkable young lady, that must be a story in itself,” Rufus said, trying to prompt more out of him.

 

“She’s none of your business,” Logan snarled bluntly.

 

“Haha, don’t worry yourself, the last time I tried to take something from you I got gutted for it, and I never make the same mistake twice,” Rufus replied, his persistent good nature grated horribly on Logan’s rapidly thinning nerves.

 

“In fact, I figured you might be around ‘cause you heard about the X-Men recruiting thing,” Rufus shrugged.

 

Logan was so busy attempting to control his temper that he had to do a double take. “The what?” He frowned.

 

“Oh, you don’t know?” Rufus enquired casually. “Every mutant in the country’s been going mad ‘bout it. They say the X-Men have been going around looking fer new recruits. They’re gonna be in Whitehaven, at the old factory, tomorrow evenin’ at nine. Figured you’d be good for ‘em, a temper like yours.”

 

If Logan’s stomach hadn’t already been coiled into a painful knot by Rufus’ stupid little story, he knew it would have squeezed tighter.

 

“Really?” Kitty piped up, her eyes alight with passion. “The X-Men are in England?”

 

Logan could tell that her enthusiasm could only spell bad news for him. She’d been persistent enough in her suggestions to find their old teammates; there was no chance in hell that she’d let a potential opportunity like this slide.

 

Then again, Rufus always did have a habit of spinning the most unlikely yarns from miniscule details. The moderated story he’d just told about Logan was evidence of the utmost reaches of his social awareness and restraint. So the feral mutant decided to play it cool and fish for information before he reacted.

 

“Why do they want new recruits?” he asked flatly.  

 

Rufus hunched over a little to whisper conspiringly, “Word is they’re goin’ back over t’America, to fight the anti-mutant problem at its heart.”

 

“So they want martyrs,” Logan commented callously. He knew it was best to feign complete disinterest, after all, Rufus had no idea that he was talking to two former X-Men and Logan wanted to keep it that way. It just so happened that cynical indifference came easily to him, meaning that he didn’t need to try very hard to convince the man of his apathy.

 

“Ah, well I never said _I_ was going.” Rufus said concordantly. “Won’t see me on the frontlines with a bogus ability like mine. But someone with claws – I reckon they could use someone like you. Replace that old fella they used t’have, what was his name… Wolverine!”

 

Logan’s brow knitted together. He had always suspected that Rufus was a lot smarter than he let on. He had the look of a person that preferred to hide his intellect rather than use it. Unfortunately, that just made him dangerously unpredictable.  

 

His expression gave away no hint that he understood the significance of his statement. Logan elected to cast the matter aside – if Rufus had been smart enough to work out the feral mutant’s true identity, then he had enough common sense to do nothing with the information.

 

“I’m not ready to throw my life away just yet,” Logan grumbled evasively.

 

“Ha, suit yourself,” Rufus grinned. “I did my part ‘n’ passed the message on. I’ll be over on my bed if you want me.” He braced his hands on his knees and stood up.

 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kitty. All the best,” he nodded at the younger mutant politely, before turning tail. Both former X-Men watched him leave and eventually lie down on a camp bed on the other side of the hall. 

 

Satisfied that Rufus would no longer be bothering them with his presence, Logan threw himself to lie back on his own camp bed. He cradled his head with his arms, positioning his elbows to purposefully block Kitty from view – it was a fairly redundant attempt to evade the inevitable, but it did give him a few moments to order his thoughts.

 

The girl would want to go; that much was obvious, but that didn’t mean he had to tag along. He wasn’t an X-Man, not anymore, and he never would be.

 

Kitty quickly grew tired of his silence, however, and burst out urgently, “We have to go.”

 

“No. We don’t,” Logan answered forcefully.

 

“But if it’s really them, I _have_ to know – I have to know who’s still alive.”

 

“Then you can go alone.”

 

“Why are you so against rejoining them?” Kitty asked, sounding a little hurt.

 

“Considering the way I left, what makes you think they’ll want me back?” Logan answered grimly.

 

“They will. We need you,” Kitty replied assuredly.

 

Logan found that hard to believe. Even if Kitty was convinced that he would be welcomed with open arms, she was one of many and the others probably didn’t share her sentiment.

 

A small part of him also believed the callous persona he had used to throw Rufus off. If the X-Men could stop mutantkind’s persecution they would have found a way by now. It shouldn’t have gotten this far, the fact that it had was just testament to the overwhelming power of human intolerance. 

 

Logan had walked the Earth for a long time, and he’d seen enough to know that humans would never accept them. They feared mutants and what people feared they inevitably destroyed. What use was there fighting against an unchangeable force like that?

 

Once upon a time, he would have taken on any battle. The more the odds were stacked against him the better. Yet something had changed; he just didn’t have that drive anymore. He just knew that rejoining the X-Men would be one of the biggest mistakes he could ever make, and he’d made quite a few.

 

“What if it’s a trap? What if those anti-mutant activists are just doing this to kill as many mutants as they can?” Kitty’s voice shook him out of his thoughts.

 

He scowled. “Then you’d be damn stupid to go.”

 

“I’m injured. If I went and it was a trap I wouldn’t be able to defend myself, I need you to look after me,” Kitty pushed.

 

It was a very poor attempt at emotional blackmail and Logan was pretty sure she knew it too. Why she even bothered was beyond him. They both knew at the very least she could turn intangible and avoid any attack. His presence would be entirely unnecessary.

 

Still, the younger mutant soldiered on. “The worst that could happen is you end up stabbing some people and it’s not like you’ve got any problems with that.”

 

Logan tensed. “What if I did?”

 

“You stabbed that other guy over a _bike,_ ” Kitty exclaimed.

 

The feral mutant’s teeth clenched. He could hardly begin to explain how that event had affected him; not to her, not after she’d seen him rip men apart, not after she’d seen the animal he really was. And yet, deep down inside he couldn’t stand the idea that Kitty thought of him as some mindless killer, even though it was probably safest that she did. Even though it was probably true.

 

Despite himself, Logan said quietly, “You think I’m proud of that?”

 

Kitty paused for a beat, before coming back with: “Then do something you can be proud of, rejoin the X-Men.”

 

Logan growled in frustration and sat back up to face her. She gave him a strong, confident stare, which sent his temper from a gale to full-on hurricane.

 

The girl had no concept of how the real world worked. She was an X-Man through and through; a true inheritor of Xavier’s blind-faced optimism. Her naivety would get her killed and Logan had lost his patience with her.

 

In a fit of rage, he jumped to his feet. The metal legs of his camp bed screeched on the wooden floor as he stormed off to the exit.

 

Through the angry haze clouding his senses, he was vaguely aware of Kitty calling his name but ignored her completely. If she wanted to go to some dubious meeting and get herself killed then it was up to her. He, on the other hand, was determined to find the nearest bottle of whiskey and not stop drinking until he could forget his own name.

 

*** *** *** *** ***

 

“Mr. Logan!” Kitty cried hopelessly, as she saw his back disappear behind a closing door at the end of the hall.

 

Compelled to follow him, she attempted to stand up, but a sharp stabbing pain in her ankle knocked her back down. She hissed and stared at the appendage hatefully. There was no way she was going to be beaten by a stupid sprain, so once the fire in her muscles had dulled, she tested her weight a bit more cautiously. With determined confidence, she pushed herself up, but her effort was halted by a voice calling out across the hall.

 

“I recommend you leave him be, Miss. When he looks like that it’s best ta keep ya distance.”

 

She looked up and locked eyes with Rufus, who was still sat on his bed on the other side of the hall. The man patted his stomach and gave her a meaningful look, which wilted the strength in her arms, leaving her to slump back down.

 

As much as Kitty didn’t want to admit it, Rufus had a point. Even if she did manage to catch Logan up in her current state, there was then the problem of calming the feral mutant down, and she was probably the last person capable of doing that right now.

 

Giving Rufus a resigned nod, she turned and lay down on her bed, curling her legs up to her chest. It was unlikely that anyone in the hall had failed to notice her argument with Logan, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that all eyes were resting on her. Dealing with nosy strangers was the least of her troubles, however, and she simply squeezed her eyes shut to block them out.

 

The much larger problem was the fact that she’d scared away the one person she could rely on in this dreadful country. It had been a gamble to blackmail him the way she had; one that she should have known she would lose. Her only hope was to stay here and trust that he came back. After all, he made a promise to her and she had to believe he would stick to it.

 

Fortunately, the combined lack of sleep and heavy injury she had sustained over the past couple of days made falling asleep easy. Despite her frantic mind, Kitty managed to fall into some sort of unconsciousness.

 

*** *** *** *** ***

 

She woke to find the hall lights had been turned off, and there was an occasional snore coming from somewhere in the far corner.

 

Sitting up as quietly as she could, the young mutant checked Logan’s bed next to her. It was still empty.

 

Crestfallen and defeated Kitty lay back down. She absent-mindedly pulled her sleeping bag over the top of her shoulders, despite the fact that it remained unopened.

 

Sleep didn’t come easily for the rest of the night. She continually stirred to check the empty bed next to her, and even on a few occasions sat up and studied the darkened hall for some sign that her companion may have returned. Even when she did manage to catch a few minutes of sleep, she awoke with the sense that something terrible had happened, but when she tried to remember, it slipped away and was swiftly replaced with anxiety about Logan. She assumed the feeling of dread had something to do with more bad dreams, but her mind was far too distracted to retain them. For that, she supposed she could be thankful.

 

By the time morning came, she was aching to get up. She contemplated looking for Logan; there was a possibility that he hadn't left Maryport, and the town wasn't that big, she could easily search it within a day, even with her ailment.

 

With that in mind, Kitty threw back the sleeping bag that had twisted itself around her legs during the night and sat up. She gave the hall a precursory scan. Many of the homeless shelter's patrons were already awake and eagerly awaiting for the kitchen hatch to open and serve breakfast. The hall was filled with slightly more chatter than the previous evening, as if sleeping in the same space had somehow broken the ice.

 

Kitty, on the other hand felt hardly any affinity with these people. Very few of them could be in their current predicament because they were persecuted mutants. Very few of them could have seen the horrors she had and most of them were older. Kitty hoped that no one would get it in their heads to come over and talk to her. She was hardly in the mood for idle chitchat.

 

However, someone seemed oblivious to the metaphorical storm cloud over her head, because she heard a voice very close by. 

 

"Excuse me." It said politely. Kitty looked up testily at its owner. Stood before her was a boy who looked about her age. He had dark curly hair that looked just a little too grown out, and he was dressed in drab, dark clothing that had clearly seen better days. But he had a young, fresh looking face, a smooth jaw devoid of stubble and soft brown eyes. He looked at her uncertainty, before continuing. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation last night with those men. Are you - do you think you'll go to the meeting tonight?"

 

Kitty frowned "Um -"

 

"Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself; my name's Bran. I'm like you, I’m-" he stopped to look around before lowering his voice. "I'm a mutant."

 

To illustrate his point, the boy turned down the high collar of his coat. Underneath, Kitty caught a glimpse of his neck and her eyes widened in surprise, because spreading from the pale flesh of his jaw was a smattering of tiny black feathers. The way they grew denser into the shadowy confines of his jacket suggested that he was probably covered in them.            

 

"Oh, um, hi. I'm Kitty." She said awkwardly, as Bran straightened his collar back up.

 

"So do you think you'll go? Only I really want to, but I'm not sure if I should go alone." He said, eyeing her nervously.

 

"Oh, right, well, I was going to... but, my friend... he..." Kitty faltered.

 

"He didn't seem too keen on it." Bran continued for her timidly.

 

"No..."

 

"I may not be as tough as him, but I've got some pretty dangerous powers, I could defend us." Bran said as brightly as he could.

 

Startled, Kitty stared at the boy. As first meetings went, this was probably one of the strangest, and she'd met a blue furry imp who had a worrying tendency to pop up in a cloud of smoke behind her when she least expected it.

 

"Sorry, I'm just a little bit nervous. I didn't mean to, but I overheard, you're an X-Man aren't you? I've always wanted to meet an X-Man."

 

"Really?" Kitty asked incredulously.

 

"Of course!" Bran replied brightly. "The X-Men are always using their powers for good - I'd like to think my powers could be used for good," his tone turned despondent as he looked down at one of his black-gloved hands. Kitty noticed the action; it was hard not to when she had spent most of her life growing up with kids like her, who were both scared and ashamed of their powers. Of course, she had been able to flourish at Xavier's Institute and no longer saw her mutation as a curse, but she was one of the lucky few.

 

If there was anything the Professor had ever taught her, it was how to talk to new mutants, and understanding was always the first step.

 

"Do you mind if I ask what your powers are?" She said kindly.

 

Bran looked around cautiously, before stepping a little closer. He leant over her, causing her to realise that he was actually quite tall and very slender.

 

"I'm covered in these feathers and they ooze this corrosive liquid. I've - I've hurt people with it before - people I didn't want to hurt," he cast his eyes away from her.

 

"Is that why you're here at the homeless shelter?" Kitty asked tentatively.

 

Keeping his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor, Bran nodded solemnly. Kitty felt stab of pity for the boy. There she'd been, thinking she had nothing in common with these people and callously distancing herself from them, only to find someone in a worse situation than herself.

 

The thought of Logan still being out there, alone and hating her stung, but here was a boy clearly in need of some companionship. She'd given Logan enough chances; it was time to give them to someone else.

 

"Well Bran," she said, forcing a friendly smile. "You're in luck, because the X-Men teach mutants that their powers are gifts not curses, and I'm gonna take you to them."

 

"Really?" Bran looked up at her. The hope in his expression made her smile a little easier to maintain.

 

"Of course!" She replied enthusiastically. "Although, with my ankle like this it'll be more like you taking me, but I'm sure we can work something out."

 

Bran gave her a sheepish smile, as if he was trying to downplay his excitement. It made Kitty realise just how long it had been since she'd seen someone so genuinely happy.

 

They spent the rest of the day talking about anything and everything to do with being mutant. Bran told her more about himself, revealing that he had grown up in Ireland with friends and family that loved him, but when his mutation took hold, they became wary of him. When he’d accidentally burnt his younger brother with the acid from his feathers, he’d taken that as a sign to leave for good. He was only thirteen at the time so didn’t have any money and took to sleeping rough straight away. Then he took a ferry over to England; for fear that his family would turn him in to the police. On a number of occasions people had worked out what he was and he’d received some pretty bad beatings; one man had even broken his wrist.

 

To cheer him up, Kitty had talked about the Institute and all the fun times she’d had there. At first they had hurt to talk about, but the more she started to reminisce the happier she felt. She almost managed to forget about Logan’s absence. That was, until, the time came for them to take the shuttle bus to Whitehaven.

 

 At the bus stop, Kitty found herself looking around for any sign of a short, hairy, bad-tempered man in a leather jacket. However, she remained disappointed and had to get on the bus with Bran alone. He helped her limp to a seat near the back and they waited for it to set off. However, the driver seemed to be stuck talking to someone just outside the door. Kitty couldn’t make out much; it was very dark outside so she saw nothing more than a vague silhouette, and being sat at the back meant she couldn’t pick out the driver’s words, just his irritated tone. 

 

After a few moments she heard the smash of a glass bottle and an unruly man stepped onto the bus. He pushed his long black hair out of his eyes and steered an unfocused gaze in her and Bran’s direction. Recognition set into his dark, brown eyes and he pulled a lazy smirk before half-stalking, half-staggering towards them. The man was certainly Logan, but not the one she knew. This one was the strange drunkard she’d met just a few days ago – although it felt like she had lived a lifetime since then. Kitty wasn’t sure whether to feel elated or embarrassed at the sight of him, although perhaps both words were too strong. She was relieved, definitely, but not all too pleased to see him in such a dreadful state.

 

As the bus pulled off he threw himself into the empty seat behind her and leant forward, resting his arms on the rail on top of her seat. The way his hands clutched tightly around the metal pole and the incredible stench of alcohol on his breath suggested that he was using the casual gesture as a means of keeping himself upright.  

 

“Hey Kitty,” he slurred. “Who’s the new boyfriend?”

 

Kitty twisted in her seat to scowl at him. “Bran's just a friend. I met him today while _you'd_ disappeared. Have you spent _all day_ drinking?”

 

“Las' night too,” Logan replied casually.

 

“How? You don't have any money,” Kitty said, her eyes narrowing. She wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to know the answer, but somehow not knowing seemed much worse. In a way, Logan’s current state was her fault and therefore anything bad that he had done was her responsibility. 

 

However, he didn’t respond to her scrutiny and instead puffed out his chest. “Dun' ask, dun’ tell,” he said arrogantly.

 

“I think it's 'don't ask, won't tell', and that doesn't answer my question,” Kitty said, fixing him with a shrewd look.

 

“You ‘n’ yer bloody questions,” Logan grumbled, looking away.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“See, there's another one!” He pointed wildly at her, and slid along the rail to lean over at Bran. “Y’see that dunya, um, whatsyername... no wait, dun’ tell me, had something to do with cereal....”

 

Kitty grimaced. He really was a mess; she couldn’t believe he had willingly done this to himself. She thought he had more sense. 

 

She snatched his finger, which had been waggling dangerously close to Bran’s startled face, and pushed it back to his body. “Leave him alone!” she snapped.

 

Logan gave her a confused and slightly hurt look, as if he honestly didn’t realise he was doing anything wrong.

 

“I'm serious, Logan,” Kitty said, adopting a strict, parental tone. “Why did you even bother to come back if you think the meeting is a waste of time?”

 

Logan inhaled sharply as he sat up a little straighter. He gave her a pained look and replied, “Well ah hafta protect you, dun' I?”

 

Kitty’s hard expression softened slightly. She could hardly believe it, seeing him like this, but apparently the man still had some integrity.

 

Still, that didn’t account for his lousy choices.

 

“And how d'you expect to do that as a raging drunk?” Kitty said critically.

 

“Ah, that'll wash off soon 'nuff,” Logan shrugged, leaning forward on her seat once more. “N'what I wanna hear is more about yer new boyfriend,” he grinned stupidly.

 

Kitty’s lip curled in disgust. “I'm not talking to you like this.”

 

“Fine. Ah'll jus' ‘ave a snooze,” Logan said, apparently unperturbed.

 

“You do that,” Kitty responded curtly.

 

As if prompted directly by her words, Logan dropped his head onto his arms and remained incredibly still. The younger mutant scrutinized him for a moment. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to cause any more trouble, she turned back around to face the front of the bus. Bran shyly gave her a sidelong glance but didn’t say anything.

 

They continued the rest of the journey in silence, rocketing down country lanes, and finally, narrow streets. Kitty could hardly see anything out of the bus window, it was partially fogged over with condensation and there were very few street lamps. When the bus jolted to a halt, she could see nothing but darkness outside. The doors clacked open, and behind her, Logan’s head jerked up violently.

 

“Huh, wha',” He mumbled, his eyes still half-closed.

 

Kitty stood up over him. “You're in Whitehaven. Have you sobered up yet?” she asked with a harsh tone.

 

Disorientated, Logan looked around in order to get his bearings. It looked like he didn’t even know how he got here. But realisation set in and a dark expression formed on his face. “Yes,” he growled and stiffly stood up, rubbing his forehead. Kitty expected that he had a pretty bad hangover, judging by how drunk he had been. The thought made her feel oddly satisfied, and she turned to step off the bus with her head held high.

 

Unfortunately, she didn’t look as triumphant as she felt, having to limp and lower herself slowly to the ground outside. Still clinging to the bus, she looked around expectantly for Bran, but saw him hovering nervously behind Logan. The older mutant’s expression was hard to read; the closest Kitty could get to describing it was that he appeared to be suffering some sort of intestinal discomfort. But as he clearly wasn’t and apparently had no desire to actually say anything, she assumed that he simply meant for her to use him as a crutch, so she clapped a hand on his shoulder and they set off into the dark with Bran following behind.

 

They joined a steady trail of people, assumingly mutants, up a concrete slope that led to a massive factory. It had huge sliding doors that had been pushed as wide open as possible to accommodate the flood of entrants. The light from within made their bodies cast long creeping shadows, and it wasn’t until she got very close that Kitty could see inside.  

 

The old factory was so dense with people that she could hardly make out the antiquated machinery they stood around. Whatever purpose this place had once served, whatever job Logan had done here, it was all obsolete in the presence of so many hopeful faces. The vast space was filled with the echoey chatter of hundreds of excited voices.

 

There was no space to move forward into, so Logan led Kitty to the back, where she could lean on the rusted metal wall. He took his place next to her and began to survey the crowds. The scrutinizing look on his face proved that he was taking his role as her protector seriously.

 

Bran chose to stand on Kitty’s other side. It was pretty obvious that he felt intimidated by Logan, but then Kitty wasn’t surprised, going by what he’d seen of the man so far.

 

After a while of waiting, the crowds at the front began to shift and the buzz of conversation died down. All three mutants craned their necks to get a better view, although it was a bit easier for Bran, who was at least a head taller than Kitty and Logan.

 

Nonetheless, they needn’t have bothered, because the speaker had found a way of standing above the crowds, apparently on some piece of machinery. He straightened up and raised his hands in a quieting gesture. Then his voice echoed throughout the factory and reverberated in Kitty’s heart.

 

“Good evening everybody, thank you for coming. My name is Scott Summers, but you may know me better as Cyclops, leader of the X-Men.”


	13. Damned if I Do, Damned if I Don't

Logan frowned in confusion. He was almost entirely sure that the speaker at the front of the crowds was Scott Summers, and not a figment of his imagination, but then again he had downed a bottle of whiskey in the last hour. The figure certainly looked like Scott, he still had the short brown hair and iconic red visor. However, he looked perhaps a little broader, maybe even slightly taller. He wasn’t dressed in an X-Man costume, but instead wore dark clothes of a military cut; they looked sharp, but well worn. He had aged in the face, with a firmer jaw, and although it was hard to see at such a distance, Logan was pretty sure he could make out a faint line of stubble on his chin. The boy he remembered had become a man; the thought was somewhat disquieting. Although that was only true if the speaker really was Scott Summers and not a convincing imposter.

 

Brow still furrowed, Logan turned to Kitty. “I thought you said he was dead,” he muttered.

 

The younger mutant looked just as confused as he was, but also somewhat disturbed, as if she were watching a corpse being dragged around on puppet strings. “He _was_. I – ” her voice broke. She was clearly distressed and Logan decided not to push her any further. Instead, he turned his attention back to the Scott apparition, who had started his speech.

 

“There is no escaping the fact that we are in a time of war,” his voice echoed around the factory. The distortion made it hard for Logan to identify its tone, but it seemed deeper than he remembered.

 

“The United States are a nomansland for mutant-kind and the war is spreading. I'm sure many of you are aware of the changing sentiment towards mutants in the British government. It’s only a matter of time before we are persecuted to extinction worldwide.” This statement received a low murmur of unrest from the crowd. 

 

“We must take our stand,” Scott said boldly, clenching a fist just high enough for Logan to see. “We must declare our right to live amongst humankind, and if we have to fight for that right, we will.”

 

The feral mutant blinked. It didn’t seem right for Scott to be acting so assertive. He had always followed Xavier’s diplomatic, peaceful approach. These sounded more like the words of a warmonger.

 

“The MRD - or Mutant Response Division - drag children out of their beds and shoot down anyone who tries to escape. There is no force strong enough to deal with men like that. We must show them that we are _not_ to be pushed around,” Scott continued, getting aggressively louder. A few people in the crowd shouted in agreement, but Logan, who was reading between the lines, felt a chill go down his spine.

 

He had heard generals, politicians, and dictators give speeches before, and many of them in times of war. He knew that when people started talking about unbridled force, what they really meant was that it was alright, even expected, for soldiers to take the lives of their enemies. If this really was Scott Summers, and if he really understood the scope of his words, then the X-Men were no longer anything like Logan thought. Or at least, the would-be boy leader had lost a significant number of his values since Logan had left. 

 

“Come with me - come with the X-Men - and we will take the fight to the heart of the problem in America. We will strike at the source. Cripple the opposition and we will create our chance to survive.” If it were possible, Scott’s hand appeared to clench tighter still and struck the air, punctuating the ends of his sentences. The crowd made increasingly vociferous cries of agreement.

 

Logan’s eyes narrowed. He wondered whether Charles Xavier knew Scott was here sending out a message of war. Had he changed his viewpoint too? Were the X-Men finally accepting the harsh world they lived in? It seemed strange; the Professor had always been so adamant about peaceful cohabitation, Logan didn’t think he’d ever change his mind. They had argued many times about the X-Men’s stance on certain issues, and Charles had invariably won, leaving Logan to grumble something about naivety whilst bowing to the man’s orders.

 

Once, he’d even lost a similar argument to Scott, so he could hardly believe the words coming out of this apparition’s mouth. He had to be an imposter; it was the only explanation. There was no way that the X-Men had turned into a mutant army. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it.

 

“I understand if some of you believe that your fight is here in the UK,” the Scott-imposter conceded. “There are rumours that the government will pass a decision on the so-called 'mutant threat’ in a matter of days. And if you decide to stay I wish you the best of luck. But for those of you who can't wait to have your fate handed to you, I urge you to come forward. Talk to myself or one of my teammates. We are happy to answer any of your questions.”

 

As he spoke, three figures stepped up to join him on his impromptu stage. Logan recognised each of them immediately. On Scott’s right hand side, a girl with long fiery hair could only be Jean. Next to her stood Kurt, his dark blue fur was unmistakable, although he had matured noticeably, having apparently grown several inches and broadened across the shoulders. His hair, which had once rested on his shoulders, was now clipped short at the sides, with long strands framing his face.

 

Lastly, stood on Scott’s left was a giant of a man, covered head to toe in metal. Logan recognised him as Colossus, someone who, the last time he checked, was one of Magneto’s Acolytes and definitely not an X-Man. This meant that either a lot had changed in his absence, or there was something very suspicious about this meeting.

 

He snapped his gaze to Kitty, intending to ask her just how much he’d missed, only to find her focus still fixed on Scott. There was a look of intense worry in her eyes and Logan wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was. Still, if there was one thing he had ever learnt about traps, it was that it was always best to work out its nature before springing it, so he kept his mouth shut.

 

“Thank you for listening,” Scott concluded, causing the factory to explode with chatter. There was no doubt that he had managed to rile the crowds; not too far from them an argument seemed to be breaking out as mutants expressed their opinions. Others, however, were clamouring to get to the front, eager to sign up.

 

Logan watched the commotion tentatively. If this really was a trap of some kind, he expected something would happen soon. But there were no overly suspicious characters in the crowd and no one looked pre-disposed to violence. So if this really was the X-Men and they really were recruiting soldiers, did that mean he might actually have a place with them?

 

“I'm going up, are you coming?” Kitty said, distracting his thoughts.

 

He turned to see her give him an imploring look, yet all he could respond with was a grimace. The very idea of walking up to his former teammates filled him with dread. Whether these people were who they seemed to be or not, he knew he didn’t belong with them. They might be killers, but he was an animal.

 

Kitty pulled an irritated expression and said sharply, “Stay here then.”

 

She nodded at Bran and the two of them set forth into the toiling masses. Logan knew that he should probably follow her, to make sure she stayed safe, but he just couldn’t bring himself to move. His mind was in turmoil; he didn’t know what to make of anything anymore.

 

*** *** *** *** ***

 

Kitty did her best to remain polite as she pushed through the crowds, but she felt as though an invisible force was dragging her towards the front and towards Scott. All the while, she failed to prevent flashbacks to her dream of a Scott-sentinel and the increasing anxiety that it just may have come true.

 

When she finally got to the front, she saw him surrounded by a crowd of mutants, diplomatically doing his best to answer their chorus of questions. Every feature of him, head to toe, was exactly as she remembered and seeing him so close made tears sting in her eyes.

 

She couldn’t contain herself any longer; she broke free of Bran’s supporting hold and stumbled forward.

 

“Scott!” she cried.

 

The X-Men leader turned at the sound of his name and his jaw fell slack in surprise.

 

“Kitty?” he said disbelievingly, rushing forward to meet her. She staggered a little on her bad ankle as he pulled her into a warm embrace. It was only for a very brief moment, but whilst he held her, Kitty was convinced that he was her old friend and not the shell of a cold, killing machine. She couldn’t explain why, but something about him just felt right; he felt like home.

 

Breaking the embrace, Scott held her at arm’s length to study her like a concerned older brother. “What are you doing here?” he frowned, noticing the cut on her forehead. “What happened to you?”

 

“I could ask you the same questions. I thought you were dead,” she said, trying to maintain her composure.

 

Scott’s arms fell by his side and he gave her an apologetic look. “Oh, I'm sorry about that. We had to shake the MRD off our trail before we went recruiting. They had to believe we'd given up the fight and staging my death was the perfect way to do it. We didn't mean to upset anyone, in fact, we came looking for you afterwards, but your parents said you'd just disappeared.”

 

Kitty’s eyes opened wide. “You saw my parents?”

 

“Yes, they were very concerned,” Scott said as kindly as he could, but he wore a serious expression that made Kitty feel incredibly guilty.

 

She dropped her gaze and mumbled quietly, “I didn't want them to get mixed up in this mess.”

 

“I understand,” Scott replied gravely. Kitty gave him an apprehensive look, however despite the red visor that hid his eyes and made his expression hard to read, she could tell his sympathies were genuine.

 

“But how did you end up in England?” he pressed on.

 

“Oh, well you know, the sneaky way,” Kitty shrugged casually. “But I met Mr. Logan in London and we started traveling together – ”

 

“Wait, you what?” Scott’s brow creased.

 

“Yeah, he's here, at the back, but – ” Kitty faltered. The X-Men leader’s expression had turned thunderous. He was no longer looking at her and instead seemed to be scanning the factory. When he located his target, he roughly pushed her aside and forced his way through the startled crowds.

 

Kitty felt her heart fall to the pit of her stomach; this would not end well.

 

“Scott! Scott, wait!” she called, limping after him as fast as she could. A pathway was thankfully left open by the X-Men leader’s onslaught and she caught up quick enough just to see him furiously bearing down on Logan. 

 

“How dare you? How dare you show your face here! After all you've done!” he bellowed, fists balling tightly at his sides.

 

Logan, who hadn’t expected such an explosive appearance, took a moment to wipe the surprised expression off his face and replace it with a grimace.

 

“Hey, look bub, I just came cuz the kid wanted to,” he grumbled.

 

“All the trouble you've caused, all the lives you've ruined, d’you really think we'd accept you with open arms?” Scott railed at him. His body was so tense; it looked like he was using every ounce of restraint to keep himself from attacking the feral mutant.

 

Logan, on the other hand, remained placidly reclined against the factory wall. Nothing, aside from the deep frown on his face, suggested that he was in the least bit bothered by Scott’s display of aggression. 

 

“Not for a second,” he replied levelly.

 

“They've got the Professor. And Storm. And Beast. The MRD have got them locked up in some facility, doing God knows what to them. And if you hadn't _waltzed_ off, they might still be here!” Scott continued his verbal assault, as if Logan had said nothing.

 

Kitty halted just behind him. She hadn’t heard anything from the mansion since she left, but had assumed the lack of communication had something to do with keeping her identity safe. She had no idea that all the adults had been taken captive.

 

Catching Logan’s gaze, Kitty found a mirror image of her own perturbed expression.

 

“And Bobby - Bobby's in a coma because no one was there to have his back - we're not even sure if he'll survive. So what right do you have to be standing there like nothing's happened?” Scott finished, his voice cracking slightly underneath all the rage.

 

Kitty felt hollow. She couldn’t believe her ears, how could this all have happened? How could she have not been there? How could she have been so foolish to trust the government, hiding behind their lies of diplomacy?

 

“I’ve got no right at all,” Logan answered sombrely. Kitty could see the anguish in his eyes and her heart shuddered with empathy. This was one hell of a wake up call; too much of one for her, and she thought it was perhaps a bit too much even for him.

 

Still, the feral mutant steeled himself and continued, “But like I said I just came because Kitty – ”

 

“No Logan, I don't want to hear your excuses, I want you gone,” Scott cut him off icily. “And if you ever dare show your face again, I _won't_ be holding back.” He tapped his hand to the side of his visor in preparation to strike.

 

Logan gave a disbelieving snort. “ _This_ is holding back?”

 

He looked unconcerned by Scott’s threat, but Kitty detected a hint of hurt in his tone and was hit by a sudden realization. It hadn’t sunk in straight away because of her own shock, but it was now very clear that despite his rejections to rejoin the X-Men, Logan really did care about them. Why else would his response have mirrored her own?

 

“You'd better believe it is,” Scott said fiercely. His fingers twitched at the side of his visor. Logan’s eyes followed the movement. 

 

“Heh, I like your style,” he said, tone barbed with bitterness as he flexed his shoulders to push himself off the wall. He stepped forward a little and stood with his legs apart and muscles coiled, ready to spring into action.

 

“You dare attack me and I'll blast you through that wall before you even get close,” Scott warned him tersely. It was obvious he didn’t intend to back down.

 

Kitty watched the scene with trepidation. If she didn’t do something quick, someone was going to get hurt, and she didn’t think she could cope with the idea of any more violence.

 

“Scott, please, just listen to me!” she pleaded, stepping around into his line of sight. Although she was very close, she didn’t dare touch him; there was no telling how he’d react.

 

“Stay out of this Kitty,” he ordered, looking over her, keeping his eyes trained on his target.

 

“No, wait you've got it all wrong –”

 

“No, he hasn't,” Logan said flatly, making her turn to look at him in surprise. There was a grim expression on his face. “You're right Summers, I'm a terrible person, but luckily for you, and luckily for this wall, I was just on my way out,” he grunted and without another glance at either of them, turned and headed to the exit.

 

“Logan, wait!” Kitty cried, moving to follow him. She was held in place by a gentle grip on the shoulder and spun around to snap its owner, only to be rendered mute by the commiserating smile of a beautiful redhead. 

 

“Don't worry Kitty, I'll go after him.” Jean said gently.

 

“But Jean!” Scott protested.

 

The psychic woman’s eyes flicked up to glare disapprovingly at him over Kitty’s shoulder. She got the feeling that a telepathic message had accompanied that look, because he didn’t say another word and a self-assured Jean rushed out of the exit.

 

Kitty couldn’t help but feel a little swell of anxiety as she watched her leave; it had been sheer chance that she’d found Logan in the first place, if he chose to leave again, this could be the last time she ever saw him. There would be no more opportunities to better understand the man and no hope of seeing the Wolverine come back to life.

 

*** *** *** *** ***

 

His head was full of thunder. All the thoughts were crashing around so violently he couldn’t hold onto any for long enough to process. His instincts weren’t doing him any favours either; they just shouted at him to go back and sink his claws into Scott’s presumptuous, high-and-mighty head. They told him to assert his dominance.

 

Fighting against instinct was something he knew inside-out, however, and it was easy enough to just storm down the slope. His rational mind, despite all the turmoil, was sending one message clear enough to block out the others. ‘Get away,’ it said. ‘Get away before you hurt someone’.

 

He was nearly at the bottom of the concrete slope, nearly engulfed by the darkness surrounding the factory, when a voice called out, “Logan, wait!”

 

Through the volume of clattering thoughts in his head, he could just about discern its owner. He inhaled sharply to draw in the person’s scent and gave a rumbling growl. She smelt like Scott, but there was a pleasant underlying floral scent that stilled the blades in his arms and quieted the raging animal in his chest. Just about.

 

“Go back inside Jean,” he shouted back at her tersely, not breaking his gait.

 

“No, I want to talk to you,” she called back.

 

“I'm _done_ talking with the X-Men,” he snarled.

 

“I want to talk to you as a friend,” she said evenly.

 

The feral mutant scoffed. He didn’t have friends, only the people he’d let down, and they would be much better off if he got as far away from them as possible.

 

“Will you please just stop?” Jean called, irritation cutting into her tone.

 

He collided into an invisible barrier and bounced back a little, pain blossoming from the impact. Frowning, he saw a slight shimmer in the air and realised it had to be one of hers. She wasn’t going to let him go without a fight, but then again, he was in a fighting mood.

 

He spun back around and snarled at the fiery-haired woman, who stopped a safe distance away. She looked at him, her expression calm and confident, not even slightly concerned by his display of aggression.

 

“Look, I'm sorry for the things Scott said,” she reasoned. “He has a lot to deal with being our leader, and I think he sometimes sees you as a bit of a scapegoat. But he doesn't represent the whole team; some of us miss you. _I've_ missed you.”

 

The feral mutant blinked and searched her face for any tiny hint of deception, but he came up short.

 

“Please don't go away again. We need you,” Jean said honestly, pleadingly.

 

Logan scowled. This had to be a trick of some sort. The woman before him was definitely Jean Grey and the man in the factory had definitely been Scott Summers, his nose could tell him that much. But something was off. Scott’s response he understood, even though he hadn’t liked it, the anger and the hatred made sense. But Jean was standing here, telling him that she missed him? It had to be a trick.

 

“You've got plenty of new recruits in there,” he grumbled, tilting his head in the factory’s direction.

 

“None of them have your experience,” Jean said with an earnest expression. “None of us do. Scott is a good leader and he's got a great mind for tactics, but he's only twenty-one years old and he makes mistakes. You know as well as I do that going up against the MRD is a tall order. They're not afraid to kill us, and given the chance they will. We need you to stop us from doing anything stupid. We need you to keep us safe.”

 

Logan exhaled deeply. Regardless of whether this was a trick or not, Jean had a good point. There was no denying that he had enough military experience to last at least one lifetime, and he couldn’t argue that he didn’t owe these kids anything. He had left the Institute with their best interests at heart, but from what Scott had said, things had only gotten worse in his absence. All his original reasons for staying away still stood, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to argue that allowing an animalistic killer into the X-Men’s midst was any more dangerous than being surrounded by zealous men with guns and sentinels. 

 

That left him with only one excuse.

 

“Scott doesn't seem too keen on having me around,” he muttered his last line of defense.

 

“He doesn't have the final say,” Jean replied firmly.

 

“And you do?”

 

“I can be very convincing,” she said, pulling a sly smile that caught him by surprise. The Jean he remembered had always been very conservative, but then as he had learnt with Kitty so far, a lot could happen in two years.

 

Deciding he didn’t want to know the specifics, he gave her a wry smile and said,  “I bet.”

 

Jean held his gaze, giving him a moment to take her in. The changes to her appearance were much subtler than they had been in Scott or Kurt, she hadn’t really grown taller and still had a long, elegant frame, but her face seemed wiser and older. She was undeniably a woman, no longer a child. He had to admit there was something very powerful about her, something that made him want to give in.

 

“Fine, I'll stay,” he sighed. “But only because you'll all get yourselves killed without me.”

 

“Thank you,” Jean smiled, breezily sidestepping his sullen comment. She jerked her head in the direction of the factory, looking at him expectantly. With another reluctant sigh, Logan began to trudge back up the concrete slope to the factory’s light-bathed interior.

 

He had about a million and one doubts about this whole idea, but knowing that the Professor, Ororo and Hank were the MRD’s prisoners, knowing what was at stake, how could he just go back to guzzling alcohol in shady pubs? He had gotten by on denial for long enough, now it was time to accept some responsibility.

 

Unfortunately, that very thought made him want nothing more than to knock back as much whiskey as his body could handle. It would only be so long until he ended up hurting someone he shouldn’t. He had already gone and proven how easy that was with getting Kitty injured. How long would it be before he fucked up again? How long before the animal inside him was released?

 

He faltered slightly. Beside him, Jean looked across questioningly and he fell prey to a distinct paranoia. She could read his thoughts if she chose to, she could be listening in to his debate, learning of his fears and concerns, finding out that above all else, he doubted whether he could even trust himself.

 

Consciously, he scrubbed his mind clean, and quirked the corner of his mouth into a brief, attempted smile. He cleared the final stretch to the factory doors and stopped just to the side.

 

Earlier in the day, whilst stealing alcohol from an off-license, he’d picked up a pack of cigars on a whim. They still sat in the pocket of his leather jacket, as he’d been more interested in losing himself to bottle after bottle of whiskey. Although he’d rather be drinking right now, he decided a cigar would still be a welcome distraction, so he reached into his pocket to pull one out.

 

Jean watched the action curiously. If she felt disapproval at seeing him light up and deeply inhale the thick smoke, she didn’t show it. But she didn’t move from her spot and Logan felt a bit like he was performing for an audience.

 

“Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere,” he said, doing his best to get rid of her politely. “But you'd better sort him out before I go back in there.”

 

Jean caught his meaning and smirked, “Oh, I will, don't you worry.”

 

She disappeared into the factory, allowing Logan to breath a sigh of relief. He needed solitude more than anything else right now. He needed time to get his thoughts in order and mentally prepare. After all, Jean could be as convincing as she liked, it was still obvious that Scott wouldn’t be happy about letting him back on the team. There would have to be a certain amount of persuasion on his part, and it wouldn’t look good if he couldn’t even convince himself. 


End file.
